


Changing fate

by aidail



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Canon Era, Episode: s05e05 The Disir, F/M, Intervention, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-09
Updated: 2020-07-07
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:41:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 33
Words: 36,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22628044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aidail/pseuds/aidail
Summary: I always hated this episode. So I'm changing it.OrWhat should have happened when Arthur asked Merlin if magic should be allowed back in Camelot.
Relationships: Gwen/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Merlin & Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 108
Kudos: 333





	1. Chapter 1

Destiny hung heavy in the air. Merlin could feel it like a noose around his neck, drawing closer with every word Arthur spoke. 

“If I DO save Mordred, all my father's work will be for nothing. Sorcery will reign once more in Camelot. Is that what you'd want?” 

Arthur sounded almost desperate for an answer and every pause was weighted with expectation. 

“Perhaps my father was wrong, perhaps the old ways aren't as evil as we thought.”

Merlin had longed to hear those words from Arthur’s lips for so long. He could feel his heart racing, the magic of the place vibrating around him, he felt almost as if he were in a dream. There was too much at stake here. This might very well be the moment when Merlin fulfilled his destiny, convinced the king to allow magic in Camelot once more, to guide it to a more peaceful and prosperous kingdom than ever before. 

It could also be the moment when Mordred was set loose to fulfil his own destiny. The moment that brought Arthur’s doom. Arthur’s death. 

“So what should we do? Accept magic? Or let Mordred die?”

Stated so plainly like that, Merlin was paralysed. He wished there was a way to ask another, to see the future, to know what he should do. 

The dragon had said Mordred must die. But the dragon has said many things. He’d tricked Merlin more than once. That he would no longer lie to him didn’t matter. The dragon was old and had been hurt by fate too many times. Merlin could no longer trust its wisdom. This decision, whatever it was, was up to him. 

He couldn’t bear to look at Arthur. His pain and indecision, his fear was too much to confront. The trust he placed in Merlin was a weight, to know the truth would see it broken. Arthur didn’t know what he was asking of Merlin in this moment. What it would mean for him to be truly free. 

But what of Mordred? 

He could taste the words on his lips. The ones that would seal his fate and Arthurs, the fate of Camelot itself. But he couldn’t bring himself to say them. 

He’d hidden too long, seen people like him suffering in silence, turning to dark magic for the power to protect themselves, to gain revenge, consumed by anger and being forced to exist in a world that hated them for something they couldn’t control. He’d made a mistake with Morgana. He’d listened to the dragon’s advice and it had ruined everything. Unless he was willing to plunge a knife into Mordred himself, he wouldn’t sit in condemnation of the boy. In fact it gave him an idea. 

“What would Mordred want?”

Arthur looked at him confused. It clearly wasn’t what he had expected. 

“What do you mean?”

Merlin thought quickly.   
“Do you remember when you first met. He was hiding from your father’s men. Hiding because of what he was.” 

Merlin could see the words sink in, feel Arthurs surprise. It has been many years since Mordred was a boy. It seemed Arthur had conveniently forgotten what he was. 

“How many more children are there like Mordred? How many children have been slaughtered by your father because they had magic? Or because their parents did? Mordred was born a Druid. Under your father’s rule, you would have already sentenced him to death.”

There was no way Arthur could deny that. He had been instrumental in saving Mordred from that exact fate years ago. 

“I didn’t realise you were so passionate about it Merlin.” Arthur deflected as he always did when felt vulnerable. But eyes were blown wide. He hadn’t moved since Merlin first spoke; his eyes fixed on Merlin’s. He was listening. 

Something occurred to Merlin, something he should have seen from the beginning. It was so perfect, so elegant. He’d almost fallen into their trap. 

“That’s why they’re doing this. That’s why it was Mordred who got hurt. They knew he’d do anything to save you. This is the test. You know what Mordred is, who he is. To save him, you have to save all of them.”

This time Arthur didn’t argue, the logic too solid to ignore. 

“Leaving the Druids in peace is one thing. They’re asking me to let magic back into Camelot,” Arthur said. 

“Would that really be so terrible? I know magic has done horrible things, especially to you,” Merlin added quickly, seeing Arthurs objection, “but it is capable of good too. I know it is.”

“How do you know?” Arthur asked half scorn and half hopeful. 

“Gaius talk about it sometimes. The way he used to be able to cure people. When people come in with problems he doesn’t have a remedy for, something he knows he could cure with magic. He would never break the law sire, but I know it weighs on him. I see it.” 

It wasn’t even a lie. Merlin had seen him sometimes, the grief on his face after he lost a patient. Merlin could always tell when there was something he could have done, some way for magic to save them. But Gaius would never ask, never place Merlin in that position, not unless it was for the sake of the King and the Kingdom.   
“I sometimes suspected,” Arthur offered softly, his voice hesitant, “but I didn’t know it weighed on him so heavily.”

Merlin nodded, both an agreement and an acceptance of the apology only he would know Arthur was making. 

“Do you think…” 

Arthur trailed off. Merlin waited. 

“Do you think it might have been different with Morgana if…” 

The words were dragged up painfully, the wound deep where all of his uncertainty and hurt from Morgana’s betrayal was hidden. 

“The last time I saw her, I asked her where she went so wrong. She’s so filled with hate Merlin. But I could tell she was scared. There was so much fear there. Do you think….do you think maybe things would have been different if she didn’t have to hide? If she hadn’t been so scared of what Uther would do?”

Merlin’s heart broke. Arthur sounded so lost, like a child, finally admitting the things he’d kept locked away inside. Merlin knew Morgana’s betrayal had hurt him, deeply. They had been children together, played together, suffered under Uther’s hand together. The firelight glinted suspiciously off Arthurs eyes, but Merlin knew he wouldn’t let the tears fall. There was too much pride in him, even now. 

“We can’t know what might have happened.” Merlin said softly, every bit of compassion he possessed in his voice. “But no one should have to be afraid because of something they can’t change. I don’t believe Morgana chose her magic. Not to begin with anyway.” 

Merlin knew for a fact she hadn’t. The prophesies had plagued her as nightmares long before she’d realised what she was or what she could do. But Arthur didn’t know that, and Merlin couldn’t explain how he knew. Not now. 

“I think you’re right.”

Silence fell over them. It felt to Merlin as if even the magic in this place was holding its breath, a soft lull, waiting. Destiny was strung between them, it coils tightening. Merlin waited. He didn’t dare think about his own stake in this. He had argued for the people he knew, people he’d seen suffer. He’d been too much of a coward to speak for himself. Now it was up to Arthur. 

“I just don’t see how it’s possible. I know it seems like the right thing. Despite his faults, I can’t believe my father outlawed magic for no reason.”

Arthur was wavering, but Merlin could see the reluctance. Changing this law would change everything. For everyone. Merlin knew exactly what petty revenge had prompted Uther to ban magic with such hatred. But he’d already lied to Arthur about that. He’d lied about so much. But this wasn’t about him. 

“You’re not your father Arthur. You’ve done a lot he wouldn’t approve of. You’ve made commoners into knight, you married Gwen. And you’ve made Camelot a better place, you know you have. Who’s more loyal than Percival or Gwaine or Elyan? And we couldn’t ask for a better Queen than Gwen. She’s kind and just and most importantly you love her.”

“I know Merlin...”

“You said yourself your heart was telling you to save Mordred. You’re a good king, Arthur because you listen to your heart. You always do what’s right, no matter the cost.”

Arthur was silent for a long while. Merlin had no words left. He didn’t even know which way he hoped the King decided. His heart was hammering, all the long years of pent up feelings swirling around his anxiety to keep Arthur safe, to stop what he’d seen. But if Arthur’s fate really did hang in the balance, he needed to be honest. He had devoted his life to Arthur, now he would see what his faith had bought. 

Finally Arthur broke the silence. 

“You really think I should do this?” Arthur asked once more. 

“I think you should do what your heart tells you.” Merlin answered honestly. “I don’t know what the right choice is here. But I believe in you. I always have.” 

“Thank you Merlin.” 

The words were soft and genuine. 

“Come I’ve made my decision.”


	2. Chapter 2

“I’ve made my decision” 

The statement echoed in the cave. The women were silent, waiting. Arthur took a deep breath. 

“I have always tried to make Camelot a just and fair kingdom for all. Perhaps it’s time that included your people.” 

He was using his king voice, the one he saved for important occasions. It sounded unnatural even to his own ears. 

Still the women were silent. It unnerved him. He expected some kind of reaction. His hand itched. He’d left his sword outside, but he desperately wished the familiar weight was beside him, something soothing to grasp. He felt exposed standing before them, with not even his chain mail. He didn’t know how ordinary people did it. 

“You agree to embrace the Old Religion?” asked one, finally. 

“Choose your words carefully Arthur Pendragon,” said another. 

“If you lie to us, your fate will be worse than you can imagine,” said the third. 

“I speak the truth,” Arthur confirmed, “I am not unreasonable, I can recognise that the way your people have been treated in the past may have been…unfair.” 

Unbidden memories of the Druid boy who had been slaughtered when he and his knights attacked their camp, and the ghost he had confronted rose in his mind as he spoke. It had been more than unfair. 

“I am willing to compromise. But there must still be limits. I can’t have magic running unchecked in my kingdom. My people have already suffered enough at its hands.” 

On this Arthur would have no compromise. It was his greatest fear of magic, those who would use it against others, who had no way of defending themselves. Logically he knew magic was like any other weapon. He knew the steel and armour he and his knights wielded far surpassed what any villager could counter. But the horrors magic could cause far exceeded what any one man with a sword might do. 

The women were silent again. He couldn’t see their faces but he thought they looked strained. Then the one on the left spoke. 

“What you ask is not…unreasonable,” she said.

“You will have one year,” said another. 

“One year to find the balance,” said the third. 

“You may go,” they said together.

"What about Mordred?" 

"You have everything you need to save him," the closest one said. 

For a moment Arthur could have sworn she looked past him, but when he turned to follow her gaze all he saw was Merlin standing behind him as always. When he turned to look back at them, they were gone.


	3. Chapter 3

Arthur was grim-faced and purposeful as he rode back into the courtyard of Camelot. He didn’t pause as he dismounted and climbed the steps to the keep. He grabbed the first knight he saw. 

“Emergency council meeting. I want everyone there,” he ordered tersely. Then he turned on Merlin, standing behind him. He was always standing behind him. 

“Tell Gaius to do whatever he needs to do to save Mordred,” Arthur said intensely. “Whatever he needs. Do you understand, Merlin?” 

He met his servant eyes and saw the hesitancy before he nodded. 

“I understand, Sire.”

Merlin left hurriedly, and Arthur continued on. He swept into the hall gathering people in his wake and stood waiting by his chair. He could hear the jingle of armour and chain mail as word spread and the knights filed in one by one. No one spoke. Whispers and rumours of his journey had already spread. No one gossiped like his knights. But there were no whispers now, only grim faces. They knew one of their own was wounded. The king looked grim. This was a serious occasion. 

When they were all gathered, he began. 

“Knights of the realm. You are all honourable men. Every one of you has fought and bled for me, as I would for any of you.”

He paused, feeling the weight of this moment. 

“I have an announcement to make.”

He shifted uneasily. He was already doubting his decision. But there was a man down stairs who had risked his life for him, whose life hung in the balance. If magic could save him, then they would be foolish to ignore a tool that could benefit them, because of the damage it might do in the wrong hands. They lived in dangerous times, and even a sword in the wrong hands could kill as easily. He straightened and steeled himself for the objection. 

“Hence forth, Magic and the Old Religion will no longer be banned from Camelot.” 

Silence. 

He waited, but eventually he realised no one was going to speak. 

“I understand many of you may have concerns…” he trailed off. He was using his most serious voice, but even that didn’t keep him from feeling unsure. He realised he wanted someone to argue, to remind him of all the reasons he hadn’t done this before. He was waiting for absolution on the countless dead that had been persecuted. But no one could give him that. 

Finally, Gwaine broke the silence. It was honestly the longest he’d ever seen the knight be silent, and he was almost impressed at his restraint. 

“I grew up in a kingdom with magic. It doesn’t bother me,” he said with a shrug.

“Me too,” Percival added. 

Arthur nodded, he expected nothing more from the foreign knights. It was those from his own court he was worried about. He looked at Leon, but Leon avoided his gaze. He wasn’t the only one. His father’s knights looked up to Leon. He had been one of the head knights under Uther and continued his position under Arthur. He was capable in battle and led the knights in the King’s absence. More than a few of them were looking at him, but he didn’t acknowledge any of them, instead staring down at his hands. Finally he spoke. 

“We’re with you, Sire.”

Arthur wasn’t prepared for the wash of gratitude and love he felt for his knight in that moment. The absolute trust implied in that statement. He only hoped he deserved so much of their faith. That warmth was quickly doused as Elyan spoke. 

“My father was killed because he was accused of using magic to save himself from an illness.” His voice was rough, but not angry as he continued. “I think he was innocent but even if he wasn’t, how can you blame a man for trying to save himself?”

Arthur nodded grimly. There it was again. Magic could be used to heal people. He’d been so focused on the evil caused by Morgana, the pain left from his father’s death, he’d ignored the benefits it could bring. 

“I am sorry for your father,” Arthur said sincerely, meeting his eye. He truly was. He knew it still pained Gwen after all these years. Having lost his own father, he understood their pain. 

“I don’t blame you, Arthur. But what good is a law without mercy?” 

“It’s not like people aren’t using magic anyway,” Gwaine pointed out. 

“Exactly! Morgana and her people have never been afraid to use it against us” Percival agreed darkly. 

Arthur was surprised by their arguments. 

“How long have you thought this?” Arthur asked incredulous. 

None of them met his eye. He groaned internally. How long had they thought him a fool for his rigid adherence to his father’s senseless law? He decided he didn’t want to know. 

“So we’re agreed? Magic is to return to Camelot?” 

“Fine with me,” Gwaine said cheekily with a wink.  
“Aye,” added Percival.  
“And me,” said Elyon  
“Sire,” from Leon with a nod.   
Slowly the room filled with a chorus of agreement. 

Arthur nodded to his knights and called the meeting adjourned. There was till much to plan. They needed new laws, ways to control and manage magic and its use. He refused to return to the lawless days his father warned him about. But for now it was enough. 

When the last of his knights had filed from the room, he slumped over into his chair, suddenly exhausted as the adrenaline wore off. He’d expected a bigger fight, to have to argue and placate. This almost seemed too easy. 

Magic was now free in Camelot.


	4. Chapter 4

Mordred opened his eyes with a groan. He felt like he’d been hit with a battering ram. He tried to sit up but gentle hands pushed him back down and he looked up into the piercing blue eyes of Emrys. 

Mordred had been at court for months now and it was still a shock every time he saw him. His people had told stories about Emrys for generations. The most powerful sorcerer to walk the earth, someone who not only wielded magic but was magic. The subtle power that emanated from him was palpable. It surprised him that Merlin had managed to stay hidden for so long. Mordred could feel him before he even entered the room. Just meeting his eye was a struggle of will, one he failed at even now. 

Mordred lay back, wincing in pain, and Merlin lifted a cup to his lips, cool water trickling into his parched mouth. He gulped greedily, too thirsty to protest at the indignity of Merlin serving _him_. When the cup was empty Merlin sat back in the chair by the bed. Dimly Mordred realised he was in Gaius’s chambers. 

He remembered the cave and the Disir, the magic echoing around him like a living thing. He remembered the spear flying towards Arthur and the instinct to jump, to use his body rather than his magic, an instinct that had taken more than a decade to hone. It had been like training himself to use the opposite hand. But he had, and his body had become a shield for his king. He should be dead. 

“You saved me.” 

Merlin was watching him carefully, a grave expression on his face. Mordred could see the distrust and hesitancy in his eyes. 

“King’s orders,” he said softly. 

“I don’t understand.”

Merlin made a frustrated sound.

“The Disir gave Arthur a choice. Magic in Camelot, or you life,” Merlin said flatly. 

Mordred was stunned. He didn’t need to ask which path they’d chosen. He knew the kind of wound he’d suffered; he knew what power it would take to heal. More than any he could muster. Merlin must have saved him, but on the king’s orders…that meant…

“Why did you save me?” Mordred asked, sitting up painfully so he could face Merlin properly. Merlin moved to help him but he waved him away. He hesitated before sitting back down. 

“Why wouldn’t I?” he asked, with a crooked attempt at a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. But Mordred had already noticed Merlin’s habit of avoiding questions he didn’t want to answer, and this was too important to let go. Mordred remembered the spear in the woods. He felt no anger. But he knew he made the Warlock uneasy. He didn’t know why.

“I’m not an idiot Merlin. I know you don’t trust me. You tried to kill me when I was a child. Why save me now?” 

Merlin shifted uneasily, and Mordred expected another avoidance. So he was surprised when he answered. 

“You’re Arthur’s doom. You and Morgana,” Merlin admitted softly. 

Mordred froze. 

“I don’t understand…” 

“I saw it in the crystal cave. You were fighting Arthur and….” 

Merlin looked away. Mordred didn’t need him to finish. 

He felt his stomach turn. He had always believed that Merlin must have his reasons but he never expected this. It was hard to believe he would ever harm Arthur, the King he’d sworn to protect, the man he’d almost given his life for. He felt his hands tremble slightly. He forced himself to meet Merlin’s eyes. 

“You should have let me die.” 

Merlin flinched. 

“Don’t say that.” 

“If it’s true…I’d rather die now than betray my king.” 

He meant every word. 

Merlin’s shoulders loosened and he leaned forward, placing a hand on Mordred’s arm. It was a surprise. He couldn’t remember a time Merlin had voluntarily touched him without cause. 

“I hope that’s true. For all our sakes.”

With that he left.


	5. Chapter 5

Arthur rubbed his temples as he surveyed the mountain of paperwork on his desk. A headache had been slowly forming all day and now it had taken up residence just behind his eyes. It had been a month since that first council meeting lifting the ban on magic, and they were still no closer to a practical solution. 

There had been no formal announcement yet. While the council had agreed that magic could be useful, they had yet to agree on anything since, including who had access to it, and what should be allowed. Some of the more reticent knights, older knights from his father’s day, were unwilling to allow anyone but trusted nobles to learn magic, and even then only to assist the crown directly. 

That wasn’t quite what Arthur had in mind. 

The people he usually relied the most on for help were unusually silent on the matter. Gaius only gave his advice when asked and Merlin was almost silent. Even Gwaine and Percival had little to contribute. They had lived and travelled in Kingdoms where magic was freely used but had little idea about the laws that governed it. The whole frustrating process was enough to make him wish he’d never agreed to it. 

The only saving grace was Mordred. Every time he saw the boy in the training yard, his heart lightened and he remembered why he was doing it. Not just because if the promise he had made, but for all the Mordreds in the world, good people who shouldn’t have to grow up in fear, not in his Kingdom anyway. He'd been overjoyed when Merlin had told him that Mordred had recovered. He had thanked Gaius profusely but the man seemed to shy away from his praise. It was understandable. After decades of being outlawed, openly using magic, even to save a knight, must still feel wrong. It made Arthur doubly for his court physician and trusted advisor. Even if he had been singularly unhelpful since. 

He sighed, shuffling through more papers. He’d resorted to scanning through the old laws of Camelot hoping to find some inspiration, but it seemed before his father, what hadn’t been destroyed was as uninspired as Arthur felt himself. 

Suddenly he was aware of a familiar presence behind him and he leaned back slightly as arms curled warmly around his shoulders. He could feel hair tickling the back of his neck and he leaned further back into the welcome embrace. 

“Guinevere,” he murmured softly as she placed a kiss in his hair. 

“How’s it coming?” 

“Slow,” he answered peevishly.

She laughed lightly and pulled away from him, coming to sit on the desk in front of him. Loathe as he was to lose the contact, he had to admit he much preferred the sight of his wife on his desk than the sheaves of parchment he’d been staring at. 

“What seems to be the problem? Maybe I can help?” she offered. 

He grunted in frustration but spread his hands as he tried to explain what he wanted. 

“The problem is, we don’t have a way of keeping magic users in check,” he said frustrated, “Say a man kills someone with a sword. There’s a trial with evidence, they’re given a fair chance. But with magic…how do we know who’s responsible? If anyone can use magic how do we place any kind of restrictions when we don't have magic ourselves?” 

Gwen’s face with sympathetic as she took his hand. 

"But you already had that problem. People like Morgana who didn't care about breaking the law."

"Yes, but I can't just execute anyone who misuses magic, not if I want to the law to be fair. Not all crimes are worth losing a head over. There need to be rules about is and isn't allowed. The problem is I don’t know enough to even know where to start. I don't even know what limits there are. It takes years to learn this stuff and I don’t have that long."

“So what you need are people who understand how magic works that you can trust to help you?” 

“Exactly!” he exclaimed, glad that someone finally understood the problem. 

“What about Mordred?” Gwen asked. 

Arthur stared at her dumbfounded. The solution was so obvious it had been staring him in the face. Mordred had grown up with the Druids, surely he knew more about magic than anyone else in Camelot. 

He stood up suddenly and kissed her, almost tipping her off the desk and she laughed softly as he caught her. 

“You’re a genius,” he exclaimed fondly. He kissed her again, grateful to have been blessed with such a wise and beautiful Queen. She drew back carefully meeting his eye. 

“Well now that's settled, it’s late. Why don’t you come to bed; surely this can wait til morning?” she asked sweetly. 

She didn’t need to ask twice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case anyone's wondering, I kinda love Arthur and Gwen, they've been through enough so there will be nothing but happiness and fluff for these two (though I may torture Arthur just a little)


	6. Chapter 6

The next morning Arthur summoned Mordred. The young knight looked nervous and Arthur smiled at him reassuringly, descending from his throne to meet him. Merlin didn’t move from his place on the dais, and Arthur made a not to talk to his servant later. It wasn’t the first time he’d noticed the somewhat cold reaction Merlin had to the boy, but if this meeting went well, Mordred would be working closely with Arthur for some time. Despite what Merlin thought to the contrary, he relied on his opinion and if he had a problem with Mordred he needed to find out sooner rather than later. 

“Mordred, how’re you feeling?” Arthur asked. He always asked now, he couldn’t help it. 

“I’m well Sire. How may I serve?” Mordred asked, formal and nervous. Arthur silently wished sometimes everyone was a little less formal around him. But Mordred was young. He reassured him quickly. 

“I actually need your advice on something. Surely, you’ve heard by now that I intend to lift the ban on magic in Camelot?” he asked, moving them bother towards the long table so they could sit and talk properly. He pretended not to notice the ripple of panic, quickly masked on Mordred’s face and the way his eyes flicked almost imperceptibly past him. 

“I had heard Sire,” Mordred said carefully. 

“I was hoping for your advice. I know you grew up with the Druids. I was hoping you might be able to tell me more about how magic works? I admit my education on this matter has been somewhat spotty. You’re the best person in Camelot to help me with this,” Arthur stated plainly. 

Mordred fidgeted beside him and again Arthur noticed he looked past him once more. Arthur knew the signs of a guilty man. 

“Mordred, I need you to be honest with me. Can you do magic?” 

Mordred froze, and Arthur could see the fear in his eyes, though he masked it well. He made to rise but Arthur kept him in place with a hand on his shoulder. There was no fear on his part.

“You don’t need to worry. I won’t judge you. No man gets to choose how he is raised. You’ve served me loyally since coming to Camelot, and you’ve saved my life twice now. I am willing to admit that our stance on magic has been…inflexible…in the past, but with your help I aim to set that right.” 

Arthur was soft but stern has he spoke, not breaking eye contact. Mordred spoke hesitantly. 

“Yes, Sire.” 

“And have you used magic since you became a knight of Camelot?” 

“No, Sire!” Mordred exclaimed. Arthur was inclined to believe him. He was young, eager to please, and had proved himself to be an honourable man. 

“Can you do something for me now?” 

Mordred looked at him a long moment before he nodded. Arthur braced himself. He had an ingrained fear of magic, the use of it had been so totally and prohibitively banned his whole life. He had been taught to view magic as wrong, evil, a disturbance of the natural order. Mordred muttered a few words and Arthur almost flinched as his eyes flashed gold and suddenly they were surrounded by a flock of gently glowing butterflies. Arthur raised his eyes in wonder. He reached out to touch one and it disappeared in a gentle puff of sparks. 

There were no words. It was such a simple, beautiful display of magic, and Arthur found himself awed. Even his most hardened and jaded knights would find it difficult to argue that this was anything less than beautiful. Certainly not evil. Certainly not worth someone’s life. 

He met Mordred’s eyes again, wet and shining, reflecting the sparks of light around them and he smiled. 

“Thank you, Mordred,” he murmured softly, moved in spite of himself. 

He straightened abruptly and Mordred seemed to come to himself. With a wave, the butterflies disappeared, the chamber falling into gloom in their absence, despite the midmorning sun streaming through the upper windows. 

Arthur turned back to where Merlin was still standing stone-faced, apparently unaffected by the display of magic. Vaguely Arthur remembered that Merlin himself had grown up outside of Camelot. He felt slightly chagrined that he alone seemed to be inexperienced and easily awed by a few light. He beckoned Merlin over. 

“I need paper and ink.” 

Merlin didn’t speak, merely bowed and left the room. Arthur turned back to Mordred. 

“Tell me everything.”


	7. Chapter 7

Gwaine found Merlin brooding in the gallery. The soft autumn sunlight lit him from behind like a halo as he gazed mournfully out the window. Gwaine didn’t need to look to know who was in the courtyard below. Only one person in Camelot made Merlin look like that. 

“How’s it going?” Gwaine asked with a smile, bumping Merlin’s shoulder, literally jostling him out of his thoughts. Merlin swiftly plastered a grin on his face, but Gwaine noticed it didn’t quite meet his eyes. 

He didn’t wait for answer before leaning over Merlin to look out the window. Sure enough, Arthur was there with Guinevere, escorted by some knights. He leaned back, placing his hand on Merlin’s shoulder as he did. 

“Come on, let’s grab a drink,”

His hand stayed on Merlin’s shoulder, dragging him along at his side even as he started to protest. 

“Wait Gwaine…” 

“Come on Merlin, Arthur won’t even notice you’re gone,” Gwaine said cheerily as they made their way down the hall way. He winced inwardly as he realised how callous that sounded but didn’t correct himself. 

He was disappointed when Merlin pulled away, but he didn’t stop walking, so Gwaine counted that as small win. Merlin muttered something that almost definitely had the King’s name in it, but Gwaine didn’t listen, letting Merlin mutter what was no doubt something unflattering and vaguely treasonous. He smiled brightly instead. 

“So what’s got you out of sorts,” he asked casually as they walked. 

“Oh you know, the usual,” Merlin answered flippantly. 

“That bad, huh?” 

They walked out of the castle and into the warm sunlight. Gwaine was always happier outside and he gave Merlin a sidelong glance. He was too pale, paler than when they’d first met. He was always shut up in the castle doing Arthur’s bidding. It was getting rarer and rarer that the King had time to leave the castle, his days once spent hunting and training now taken up with court hearings and paperwork. Gwaine was happy to be a knight, free to roam the kingdom, looking for trouble and sometimes causing it. But he wished his friend had the same freedom. Merlin was rarely far from the King’s side, especially these days. Today was a rare opportunity. He intended to make the most of it. 

“Fancy a ride?”

“I thought you wanted a drink?” 

“Who says we can’t do both?” 

Gwaine’s tone was half challenge, half something else and he knew Merlin wouldn’t be able to resist. He was right. The gave the first genuine smile he’d seen in a while as they turned their steps towards the stables. 

Gringolet waited patiently as Gwaine saddled him. He’d waved off the attendants who’d come running when he entered. He still preferred to do the work himself, when he could. There was a time when Gringolet had been his only companion on the road, and it was nice to brush over the short fur and feel his heart beat, steady and warm beneath his hands. He talked softly as he worked, pulling the girth tighter. He could hear Merlin a few stalls over doing the same, his quiet brown mare huffing gently.

It didn’t take them long to be mounted and riding out the gates. Gwaine felt his heart soar as soon as they were clear of the castle. He’d been inside the walls too long. He only spared a single glance for Merlin before he spurred Gringolet on into a swift gallop, knowing Merlin would follow. The world blurred and his heart raced. These moments of freedom were rare when he wasn’t weighed down with armour and mail and the responsibilities that came with them. 

Dimly, he could hear Merlin falling further behind. Though his horse was well bred by Camelot standards, Gringolet was by far the faster. Truthfully, Merlin wasn’t an accomplished rider. Gwaine had been on horseback almost before he could walk, but as a peasant, Merlin hadn’t learned til he was almost grown and it showed. 

Gwaine pulled up gradually until they were side by side. As they passed under the first of the trees of the forest, they slowed to a walk. Merlin’s breath came faster and there was some colour in his cheeks and Gwaine smiled to himself. 

They continued on in companionable silence. It might have surprised the other knights, no doubt Arthur the most, to see them both like this. Gwaine was sure they didn’t believe he could keep his mouth shut for longer than it takes to take a breath, and he was aware of how they viewed Merlin. The ‘not quite an imbecile but definitely foolish’ Merlin. It wasn’t meant unkindly, and even Gwaine could admit Merlin did make a habit of seeming ridiculous. 

But so did he. And he knew that sometimes, that was the best disguise. 

Eventually, Merlin spoke. 

“So what do you think of all these changes?” 

It wasn’t what Gwaine was expecting. 

“You mean magic?” He shrugged nonchalantly. “Doesn’t bother me. I grew up in a kingdom with magic. So did you I hear?” 

He smiled amiably, but he was watching carefully. Merlin’s shoulders were stiff and he was sitting on his horse even worse than usual. 

“Do you not like magic?” he guessed. 

Merlin threw him a surprised, almost furtive look before shrugging consciously. 

“I don’t dislike it I guess…I’m just worried about Arthur,” Merlin said quietly. 

Gringolet skipped a step and Gwaine released the pressure on the reins. 

Of course Merlin was worried about Arthur. It was always Arthur. 

Unconsciously, he quickened their pace, as he thought of the best way to answer. 

“You know this doesn’t really change anything,” Gwaine reasoned. He’d sat through the meetings, listened to an endless number of arguments.   
“If anyone wanted to hurt Arthur, they’re not going to let the law stop them. Morgana certainly didn’t.”

Merlin’s only response was a frown. 

Gwaine might not be a genius, but he had good instincts. He knew something was bothering his friend. Percy would also say he was tactless. Which is why he asked

“What are you really afraid of?” 

Merlin looked at him in surprise and then seemed to consider it. Gwaine watched his clear blue eyes grow distant as he withdrew into himself. Gwaine almost felt as if he was falling in with him. Of everything, it was that which proved to Gwaine there was more to Merlin than anyone knew. He might seem like a bumbling servant, loyal and honest, but also clumsy and unreliable. But Gwaine caught that look in his eye sometimes, like ripples in deep water and he knew there was something there. Something he wanted. 

Merlin shook his head and the spell was broken. But he was serious when he spoke.

“Mordred.” 

Gwaine was even more surprised. He hadn’t taken much notice of the boy. He knew he’d helped Arthur against Morgana in the caves, and that they’d known each other years ago. But he was young and earnest and entirely too innocent to be much fun. He didn’t have the sharp wit or easy banter the other knights shared so Gwaine mostly ignored him. Now he was wondering if that was a mistake. Merlin was rarely wrong. That much Gwaine had noticed. 

“You think he’s up to something?” 

“I don’t know.” 

Merlin looked miserable. 

Suddenly Gwaine wished they were at the tavern. Then he could have been close enough to do something. He didn’t quite know what, but he was a man of action and riding along passively when his friend looked like his world was coming apart at the seams didn’t sit well with him. He would have preferred having something or better yet, someone to hit. 

“Have you talked to Arthur about it?”   
“Arthur trusts him.” 

Gwaine could read enough into that. 

They continued on in silence. Gwaine had thought to take Merlin’s mind off his troubles but it seemed he’d only succeeded in being equally dismayed. The confusion and sorrow radiating from Merlin was palpable and it was infecting Gwaine as well. 

Abruptly, Gwaine shook himself. This wasn’t any way to spend an afternoon in the forest. He had a wine skin hanging from his saddle, an afternoon to while away, and a friend in need of some fun. 

“Come on Merlin. Cheer up. Arthur has a dozen brave and handsome knights around, what can go wrong?” 

Merlin’s mouth twitched. 

“Handsome? You must be talking about Leon.”

Gwaine only half feigned his outrage. 

“Leon!"

"Well you can't be talking about yourself." 

"I’ll make you regret that.”

Gwaine lunged over his saddle but Merlin dodged him with a grin. 

“You’ll have to catch me first.” 

By the time they returned to the castle several hours later, Gwaine was quite pleased with himself and Merlin was laughing. At least until they both heard a familiar shout. 

“Merlin!” 

Merlin looked at Gwaine. 

“You said he wouldn’t notice.”   
“Clearly I was wrong,” Gwaine admitted as a familiar scarlet clad figure came charging down the stairs. 

They ran.


	8. Chapter 8

Arthur stared blankly at the parchment in front of him. He was sure he’d read the same line a dozen times but it wasn’t sinking in. Eventually, he pushed himself back with a sigh. Behind him, Merlin shifted suspiciously but Arthur ignored him. He tried picking up a different document. This one made even less sense than the last one. He shoved his chair back and started pacing. Merlin was suppressing a small grin and Arthur rounded on him at last. 

“Haven’t you got anything better to do?” he growled. 

“No, Sire.” 

Arthur grabbed the nearest thing, which happened to be a pillow and threw it at him. 

“Well don’t just stand there, go and see if Gaius needs any help or something.” 

Merlin bowed and left but Arthur had seen he was still laughing. He would have to think of something to punish him later. His boots had been looking a bit dull lately. 

He was still pacing. 

He hated it when Guinevere was outside the castle. He had sent his best knights, men he trusted with his life to escort her, but that didn’t really make him feel any better. Their world was dangerous and for a Queen even more so. But it was more than that. 

It irked him that he wasn’t with her. Today of all days he should be able to stand with his wife and comfort her. Except that he was partly to blame for her grief. His father had executed her father. She didn’t blame him, he knew she didn’t, but he couldn’t help blaming himself. 

So he let her make her pilgrimage alone, with her brother and his knights while he stayed in the castle and paced, trying to think of something he could say the would make it better. 

He hoped the new laws would help. Mordred’s advice had been invaluable, even if the boy had seemed reluctant in answering his questions. They’d made more progress in the past week than they had in the month prior. He was still trying to wrap his head around it, magic, but at least he had some information to work with. They were almost ready to make the announcement to the people. He hoped maybe it would give Gwen comfort to know that no more daughters would lose their fathers the way she had lost hers. 

A squire burst in panting, jolting Arthur from his thoughts as his hand made a half aborted movement towards where his sword usually hung. 

“Sire, the knights…Sir Leon and Sir Percival are injured!” 

Arthur felt an icy hand seize his heart. 

“Where’s the Queen?”

The squire looked helpless. Arthur was already pushing past him, racing down the corridor. The knights would be in Gaius’ chambers and so would his answers. 

He was right. Leon and Percival were layed out and Merlin and Gaius were already at work. Elyan and Gwaine were hovering in the background, strained with worry and guilt. 

“What happened?”  
“We were riding, we came upon a nest of snakes.”  
He could read their faces, already knowing the answers, but he needed to hear them say it.  
“Where's Guinevere? Where is she?”   
“I told her to get away. She fled.” Elyan answered, looking almost as stricken as Arthur felt.

Arthur left. Grim determination gripped him. Merlin called out behind him but he didn’t wait. 

“We ride at dawn.”

Merlin didn’t follow him.


	9. Chapter 9

Merlin watched Arthur’s retreating back but didn’t follow him. He had patients to attend to. Gwaine was still standing over Percy, watching his face slack and pale. He could feel Gwaine’s shock, both at his friend’s pain and the loss of Gwen. That shock could wound as easily as the poison the other knights suffered. Merlin gently pulled him aside. 

“You saved his life,” he said quietly. Gwaine seemed to start and his gaze focused on Merlin’s as if seeing him for the first time. Merlin held his gaze, trying to ground him. 

“We shouldn’t have left the queen,” Gwaine answered softly, but he went back to watching where Gaius was holding a poultice against Leon’s arm. 

“You saved their lives,” Merlin assured him, “and we will find Guinevere. I know it.” His tone was firm and he placed his hand gently on the knight’s shoulder, forcing him to turn away.   
“Go eat something. You can’t do anything more for them and Arthur wants to ride at dawn.” 

Gwaine studied him for a moment, eyes intent on his face. Eventually he nodded. 

“Thanks Merlin,” he said softly as he grabbed Elyan on his way out. 

Merlin released a breath as both knights left and moved over to help Gaius. 

“This is no accident,” he stated grimly. 

The wounds were strange, yellowed and painful and Merlin had to agree.   
“Sorcery?” he asked, though he knew the answer. He could sense the faint tinge of wrongness about them, like a bad smell, a smudge of darkness.   
“There is dark magic coursing through their veins. By any right, they should be dead.” Gaius confirmed.   
“Then they were lucky.”  
“I fear there's more to it than luck.”

The look Gaius gave him was significant and Merlin felt his stomach drop. There was only one sorcerer who was powerful enough and subtle enough to pull off something like this. 

“Will they be ok?”   
“There’s nothing more we can do for them. They should be up and about in a few hours.” 

Merlin nodded distractedly. Gaius waved him away and Merlin took the opportunity to leave. His feet carried over familiar stone and up, up, up to the gallery. It was quiet up here and Merlin needed to think. 

Morgana had Gwen. He was certain of it. Every time he thought of the sorcerer, he felt a leaden pit in his stomach, a weight compounded by guilt and anger and the slow cold creeping knowledge that somehow everything that had happened was somehow his fault. Morgana had been his greatest mistake. He knew that now. When she had been alone and scared and looking for answers he’d turned her away, played dumb. He let her think she was alone until someone else came along with the answers she’d been looking for, someone who showed her the kindness and loyalty she’d craved. Someone who used their love to lure her into the darkness. 

Yes Merlin had been wrong and all of Camelot had suffered the consequences. Arthur had suffered. And now Morgana had Gwen. 

Guinivere, his first and best friend, the person who had made him feel welcome in Camelot. She was more than his Queen, more than Arthur’s wife, she was his friend. She was Camelot’s beating heart and Merlin was afraid. Morgana had made no secret of her jealousy, had tried to kill Gwen more than once. But Morgana was crafty. She didn’t just want to kill the Queen. She wanted Camelot. She wanted to be Queen. If Morgana had Gwen, then all of Camelot was at stake. Everything he had worked for. Everything he had tried to protect. 

He thought of butterflies in Camelot’s throne room, Arthur’s face, enraptured. 

He knew what he had to do.


	10. Chapter 10

Arthur strode into the throne room, his steps echoing in the empty chamber. Shades of moonlight threw shadows, the torches has long since burned down. He waited. 

He should be packing. He planned an early start. But even if he could bear the thought of returning to his chambers, empty and dark, there was something he had to do. 

The doors creaked as they opened, and a shadow entered. Arthur was slumped in his chair, deep in thought. A voice broke the silence. 

“Sire.” 

Mordred knelt but Arthur bade him rise. Now was not the time for ceremony. 

“Have you heard?” was all Arthur asked. He could not bring himself to say the words. Hesitantly, Mordred nodded.   
“I need your help, Mordred. I fear Guinevere has been taken by Morgana.” 

In fact he was sure of it. But he had no proof, only a feeling. A glance had been enough for him to know his knights had not been attacked by normal means. And only Morgana would take Gwen. She knew how much Gwen meant to him. His Kingdom was naught but ash without her beside him. 

Mordred looked uneasy, but not surprised. No one was surprised by Morgana anymore.   
“Are you sure, Sire?”   
“Not for certain. But it pays to be prepared.” 

“Sire, I-“   
“I know it’s a lot to ask, of anyone. But she has Guinevere and you’re the only one I can ask.” Arthur continued. He’d lost count of the number of times they’d faced Morgana, the number of times she’d walked away unscathed. He believed his reasons for allowing magic back into Camelot were with good intentions, but now he was glad simply for the opportunity to use the one weapon they’d never had before. 

“I want to help Sire, truly. But I’m no match for Morgana,” Mordred said finally. Arthur could tell the words cost him. The boy was eager to prove himself. Arthur spared him a brief smile that felt ill fitted to his face, though he meant it.   
“Maybe not alone. But together, we may have a chance.” 

Mordred nodded. 

“Good, now get some sleep. We leave at first light.”

Mordred bowed, his face no more than a shadow in the near darkness as he turned to leave. He was almost at the door when he stopped. 

“She doesn’t speak for all of us,” he said softly.  
Arthur didn’t respond. He sat alone in the empty hall. It was almost dawn when he finally answered.

“I know”. 

When the first light of day broke, Arthur summoned his knights. In his rooms by the door, his bag was packed, his armour laid out carefully, his sword freshly sharpened and a note. 

Merlin was gone.


	11. Chapter 11

It took two days for Merlin to make it to the tower. Even using his magic, it was a long walk and he was constantly looking over his shoulder, hoping desperately that he wouldn’t see Arthur coming after him. After Gwen. 

He knew this was the right thing to do. Arthur needed to be safe, he needed to be protected from Morgana at all costs. Whatever trap she’d set for him, Merlin knew Arthur would willingly step into it for Gwen’s sake. So Merlin was doing it for him. 

It hadn’t been difficult to find her. While his skills in reading the forest and tracking footprints were not at the same level of Arthur or even Gwaine or Percival, men who had spent their lives hunting in forests and often relying on that skill to survive, Merlin had his own tricks. Morgana may have been hard to track but Guinevere was easy. 

Merlin paused in the shade of the tower to compose himself. He knew he had made good time, faster than the knights laden with arms and armour could have. Even a short break made him anxious, but it had been a long hard trek through the desert, and he needed to have his wits about him for this encounter. The plan he had formulated was foolhardy at best, but it was all he had been able to come up with on his way. He was too close to fulfilling Camelot’s destiny to risk failing now. 

Stepping into the tower was like plunging into an ice bath. As hot as the desert outside had been, inside was freezing. At first he was grateful as he made his way up the stairs, the heat of the desert leeching out of him. But soon he started to shiver. It was eerily silent. He thought he could hear the faintest scuffling, always out of reach, but the sound was masked by his own breathing. 

His magic led him upwards, pulling him towards the top of the tower. It grew warmer as he ascended, but it was still uncomfortable. Finally, he found a door and pushed his way inside. 

In all the time he’d spent wondering what Morgana was doing to Gwen, he had never imagined this. Hundreds of Mandrake roots were hanging from the ceiling. He could imagine their piercing shriek slowly driving Guinevere mad. He found her huddled in a corner, hands over her ears. She didn’t look surprised to see him as she screamed at him. 

“Go away!” 

Merlin took a half step back, surprised in spite of himself. He made himself move slowly, gently, as he approached, as he would a wild animal. 

“It’s ok, Gwen I’m here,” he said softly.

“You’re not real!” she said, though this time her voice wobbled, and she didn’t flinch when he reached for her. 

“I promise Gwen, I’m real.” 

Guinevere studied his face intently, looking suspicious. When all he did was look back at her, she relaxed slightly. 

“Merlin?” she asked tentatively. 

He was so intent on Gwen, he didn’t hear the door open. But he felt it when he was thrown across the room, slamming into a pillar. It knocked the breath from him, and he fell to the floor stunned. 

“What are you doing here?” Morgana demanded, striding into the room. 

Merlin pulled himself up to face her. It was always a shock, seeing her. She had lost weight again, her hair tangled around her like cobwebs. She was still beautiful, nothing could take that from her, but cold. It broke his heart to look at her, to know the girl she’d been, to know the role he’d played in making her this way. 

“I came to make a deal,” he said, trying to sound confident while his ribs ached.

“What could I possibly want from you?” Morgana replied scornfully. He could see her preparing to attack again, no doubt impatient with dealing with a servant instead of the one she viewed as her true enemy. He spoke quickly. 

“Aithusa.”

Morgana froze and Merlin let out a sigh of relief. He’d guessed right. 

“How do you know that name?” she demanded. 

“It doesn’t matter,” he replied, “what matters is I know how to help him.” 

Merlin saw the hope on her face, just a second, before distrust and scorn twisted her features again. 

“And how would a servant like you know anything about that?” 

Merlin shrugged, a self-deprecating kind of movement, and smiled at her sadly.

“You know, there was a time when being a servant wouldn’t have meant anything to you,” he commented lightly. 

“That was a long time ago,” she replied, “before you tried to kill me.” 

Merlin winced. It wasn’t something he liked being reminded of. A choice he’d had to make for the greater good. It didn’t mean he enjoyed it. 

“Well now I want to help you.”  
“Help me?” she scoffed, “And why would you want to do that?”   
“Because I can,” he said, “and because you’re going to let Guinevere go.” 

Morgana turned to look at the Queen. She had been quiet this whole time, still huddled in the corner Merlin had found her. She couldn’t have been in this room for more than a day, but already it had affected her. Merlin met Morgana’s eye as she turned back to face him. 

“Let her go. Undo whatever enchantment you’ve put her under. Do this and I swear, I will help heal Aithusa.” 

It was a gamble. He didn’t know why Aithusa had been in those caves with Morgana, but he had disappeared around the same time as Morgana after the battle. Kilgarrah had told him that Aithusa was old enough to care for himself and make his own choices, but Merlin had still worried. Now he wished he’d worried more. It was clear that something horrible had been done to the young dragon. Something told him it hadn’t been Morgana. He didn’t know if she cared about the dragon or not, but Merlin was betting that if nothing else, Morgana’s lust for power would make her want Aithusa returned to full strength. 

It wasn’t a great plan. He was risking both his own and Gwen’s life on the roll of a dice. But Morgana’s conflicted face as she thought it over gave him hope. His other plans had been even more desperate and even less likely to succeed. But he’d promised Arthur that Gwen would return, and he was willing to do whatever it took to fulfil that promise. 

Whatever it took. 

Finally, Morgana smiled unpleasantly.   
“What’s to stop me from keeping you both? I’m sure I can find some way to persuade you to do what I want,” she said sweetly.   
Merlin was already shaking his head.   
“We both know that won’t work,” he said steadily. Their eyes locked and Merlin threw all of his considerable will behind that gaze. He didn’t know what it was that convinced her, but Morgana looked away first. 

“Fine,” she said sulkily, “but how do I know you’ll keep your word?” 

“You’re just going to have to trust me,” he said softly.

She scoffed but didn’t say anything. 

“Fine,” she said again, “You can go.”

She waved a hand at Gwen and Merlin saw the flash of gold in her eyes. Whatever enchantment she broke, Merlin felt it dissipate. He hadn’t noticed the cloying magic wrapped around him until it was gone, so insidious was its touch. Gwen stumbled upright as if she’d been shocked. She walked over to him, eyeing Morgana distrustfully, placing herself between them.

“Merlin? What are you doing?” 

“Rescuing you, of course,” he answered with a lopsided grin.   
“Listen to me,” he added urgently, cutting off her protests, “you have to go. Camelot needs you. Arthur needs you.” 

Gwen just looked at him.  
“Oh Merlin”   
“No listed Gwen, get out of here. Find Arthur, tell him what’s happened. I need you to take care of him for me for a bit, ok? Make sure those new laws get passed. I don’t want him to use this as an excuse.”

It was dangerous to say any more, but Merlin had known Gwen longer than anyone else in Camelot, they’d been friends long before Arthur had even deigned to notice either of them were worth his time. He knew she would understand. She looked at him for a long moment before she nodded. She gave him one last impulsive hug before she made to walk out. 

“Wait,” he called before reaching into his bag and drawing out a sword. 

Morgana flinched but he ignored her, keeping his eyes on Gwen. 

“Take this. Stay safe ok? Get back to Arthur. He’ll be looking for you.” 

Gwen took the sword and nodded. 

“I promise.”

Then she was gone, leaving him alone with Morgana.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so it's never clear in the show how much time has passed at any given point. So I'm going to assume that Morgana had Gwen for at least a week in the show and that in this version, Merlin got there before the Mandrakes did too much damage to Gwen.


	12. Chapter 12

They travelled in relative silence for three days. 

Relative because no two people can truly travel in silence. Not over a barren waste, or the forest that followed. Morgana wasn’t used to travelling with a companion. She’d been on her own for so long now. Since her sister…

It would have been faster if Merlin has a horse. She had sequestered her own in dip between two hills confident that the knights would bluster in straight to the tower with no thought or consideration for scouting the terrain. Arthur was many things, but subtle was not one of them. Merlin hadn’t even thought to bring one. Asking him how he got to the tower was one of the few questions she wasted her breath on. 

Merlin was no more forthcoming. She didn’t trust him. She knew there had to be a trick. Perhaps she was walking into a trap. But she didn’t care. There was no trap the lumbering knights could set her that she couldn’t escape. No blade could kill her, at least none Arthur possessed, and no prison keep her. She had no fear and only one thing left to lose. If Merlin had tried to trade anything else for Guinevere’s freedom, she’d have ended him on the spot. Her plan to place a spy inside Camelot’s walls was flawless and ridding herself of Arthur’s pesky servant would have been an added bonus. But Aithusa was worth the risk. 

Morgana was anxious to reach the hollow in the forest where the dragon liked to hide. It was not far from the place she had first met him. It was too closeto Camelot and she worried about leaving him alone for too long, but he insisted. She still didn’t know why he’d saved her life. She had heard legends of dragons who could speak, but Aithusa remained silent. She didn’t know if he was too young, or if their time in the well had made him dumb. 

It was her greatest regret. Morgause’s death still pained her, but she had made her choices and taken her chances. Morgana would still take whatever revenge she could for her death, but she didn’t feel responsible for it. She was responsible for Aithusa. If it weren’t for her, he never would have been captured. She’s paid her debt in pain and blood and the darkness they shared for three long years. But nothing could cleanse her of the guilt she felt every time she looked his twisted form. 

She urged her horse a little faster, but it didn’t help. Merlin continued on at a stubborn pace. He didn’t rush to keep up with her. He took breaks when he cared to and didn’t bother to ask. She had berated him for his insolence, tried to continue on without him, threatened and bated him, but nothing would rush him, and she wasn’t willing to carry through on her threats. Not yet anyway. She’d showed her hand by not following through on her threats, and Merlin was no longer afraid of her. 

“How much further?” 

It was the first words he’d spoken today, and the sun was already past its zenith. Begrudgingly, Morgana could admit he sounded a little winded. 

“Another hour,” she replied shortly.

Merlin sighed and swung his bags to the ground. She hissed in irritation but relented when he pulled out a water skin. She could admit she could use a break as well. 

She swung herself down from her horse and pulled her own water skin from the pommel. She kept her eyes on him as he drank. She might have nothing to fear from him, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t remain vigilant. 

She blamed him for missing the warning signs. She didn’t hear the warning huff from her horse, and it wasn’t until the bandits were coming out of the trees that she realised they were surrounded. Four of them went straight for Merlin and she sneered in contempt as two came towards her. They underestimated her because she was a woman. They quickly learned their mistake. 

They’d barely touched the ground before she whirled to check behind her. Just in time to see Merlin’s eye flash gold as all four men were thrown away from him with enough force that she heard their bones crack as they hit the ground. 

Icy shock washed over her as he met her gaze, stark fear on his face making his pale face stand out in the gloom under the trees. 

They faced each other for several long seconds before she broke the silence. 

“You have magic.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wish i could say I knew what I was doing, I hope you're all enjoying this so far!


	13. Chapter 13

Merlin froze. The words hung heavy in the air, shock and condemnation and something almost like awe in Morgana’s voice. 

There was no use denying it. 

He hadn’t meant for her to see him. He hadn’t wanted her to know. 

Panic and fear washed over him. He hadn’t known what he was planning to do when he left Camelot. His only thought had been to rescue Gwen without letting Arthur anywhere near Morgana. Protecting the tenuous acceptance Arthur had towards magic was a close second to protecting Gwen. Destiny was wrapping its grip around Camelot and he had acted in desperation. 

He blamed Mordred. His constant presence felt like a threat. Watching him use magic so close to the King had been torture. His mind had fractured into shards, part of him screaming to protect Arthur, the other half sick with jealousy that Mordred could dare reveal himself and claim Arthur’s acceptance. It had made Merlin want to prove himself. 

Now Morgana knew his secret. 

The men had come at him so fast. Too many for him to fight, even if he’d been armed. And he was used to having more time, of being unnoticed. He was too accustomed to the knights flailing and crashing and generally causing havoc, so that a spear, or a man, thrown by nothing would go unnoticed. But Morgana had dispatched her attackers even faster than he had. So swiftly, he hadn’t even had time to think. 

Oh gods, Morgana knew. 

He wanted to run. He wanted to be sick. He needed air. 

She took a few steps closer to him, her face a strange mix of disgust and fascination. He faced her squarely. He’d knew than to show a predator weakness. 

“All this time…” she wondered softly. 

Her expression finally settled on contempt.

“All this time, you’ve been Arthur’s lap dog. And you dare to condemn me?” she hissed. 

Merlin shook him. 

“It isn’t like that,” he protested weakly. 

“Why should a believe anything you say?” she accused, “You’ve been lying to everyone, all this time.” 

She stalked back towards her horse and Merlin looked at the ground. His water skin was lying by his feet, dropped during the attack. The water had leaked out and it was left deflated and useless. Just like him. 

“How does a sorcerer end up Arthur’s loyal servant?” she baited him again. She was holding the reins of her horse, as if scared it would flee. It hadn’t moved during at all, not even when men were screaming and running with weapons drawn. She’d trained it well. Now she was holding on as she needed support. Briefly he wondered if this was a strange for her as it was for him. 

“Who taught you magic?” she asked, as if daring him to deny it. 

He decided on the truth. Or at least as close to it as he could. She clearly didn’t suspect that he was the sorcerer she’d spent so much time looking for, and he needed to keep it that way. 

“My father,” he said shortly. 

He could see by her face that she remembered enough to know the significance of that. 

“I thought you didn’t know your father?” She asked suspiciously. 

“Only briefly.” 

She was quiet. 

“And yet you still choose Arthur over your own kind?” She asked, indignant. 

“Arthur’s different!” he shot back, the same defence he’d been using for years. 

“Is he? He’d have your head if he knew what you really are.” The words were a threat and an entreaty. “Why are you so loyal to him?” 

“You’re wrong Morgana. Arthur is changing things.” 

She scoffed. 

“Oh really? Then why haven’t you told him?” 

Merlin didn’t have an answer. Or rather he had too many. Because he’d already lied for so long. Because Arthur listened to him. Because when Arthur looked at him, he felt the weight of his trust, a trust that had taken him years to earn. Because he didn’t want that look to change. 

Because he was afraid.

Merlin gestured helplessly and Morgana smiled, sensing she’d scored a point. 

They stood in silence.

She was looking at him carefully, as if trying to reconcile this new knowledge with everything she already knew. He couldn’t meet her eyes anymore. He felt exposed under that gaze like she’d stripped him bare. The threat of her knowledge hung between them and Merlin knew she would use it to her advantage. But what that might be he didn’t know. 

She couldn’t tell Arthur. That much they both understood. At least not directly. He would never believe her, and even if she could. But Merlin knew better than to underestimate her. Morgana was clever, far cleverer than any of them, and she had knowledge he couldn’t fathom. He might be powerful, but his knowledge was gained in furtive bursts between his many duties, and from books. She was a High Priestess, taught by living members of the Old Religion. There was no knowing how much she knew, or what she could do to him now. 

“Well at least that explains why you’ve always been so much trouble,” Morgana grumbled at last. Merlin shifted uneasily. 

“We should get moving. Who knows if there are any more of these about,” she said dismissively, moving to mount her horse. 

“Wait, that’s it?” he said, startled. 

“Well what did you expect? I’m not Arthur. I’m not going to lop your head off just because you have magic,” she said flippantly, swinging into the saddle. “Besides, you still owe me.” 

Merlin didn’t know what he’d been expecting. But it wasn’t this. Morgana’s rage was gone and her casual acceptance bothered him. He stood rooted to the spot. It felt like a trick. She would attack him at any minute, hurl accusations in his face, something. But she just moved off a small distance before turning back to him, her expression expectant. 

Cautiously, he bent down to pick up his pack and fallen water skin, not taking his eyes off her. She sighed impatiently and turned back to the path. She moved off at a slow walk, setting a pace he could easily keep up with. Reluctantly he followed her, the same distrustful silence as before settling between them.

He had a promise to keep and dragon to save.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the encouragement everyone, it means a lot!


	14. Chapter 14

True to her word, it took them just over an hour to reach their destination. At first Merlin thought Morgana had tricked him. But then he heard the low moans coming from the hollow under an old tree and Aithusa stuck his head out. Merlin felt something almost like pain wash over him at the sight of the crippled dragon. His head was malformed, his body and legs disproportioned. But it was his eyes that haunted Merlin the most. Since he’d first seen them in the cave, he’d found it impossible to forget them. 

Merlin stood back and observed as Morgana swung off her horse and made her way over. Aithusa gave an affectionate trill as he hobbled further out of his hole towards her and Merlin was surprised at the way Morgana crooned at the dragon, rubbing a hand over his head. Merlin hadn’t been sure what interest Morgana had in the young dragon, but it was clear now that she genuinely cared about him and perhaps more surprisingly, Aithusa clearly returned that affection. 

It was disorientating. He’d risked his life, his position and his destiny to save Aithusa. Yet here he was clearly siding with Merlin’s enemy. He tried not to feel betrayed by the dragon, but it was difficult not to. He cleared his throat loudly to interrupt them, and Morgana stopped doting long enough to introduce him. 

“Aithusa, this is Merlin. He’s here to help you.” She addressed her words to the dragon, but her tone and expression were all for Merlin. There was both a challenge and contempt there, as well as a threat. Merlin knew his life depended on being able to help Aithusa. 

If only he knew how. 

He had learned much from Gaius about herbs and medicines, and even more from books about magic to heal. But looking at Aithusa now, he was overwhelmed by the sheer complexity and scale of what he’d promised to undertake. 

Aithusa was looking at him curiously, his body curled defensively. Merlin winced as he shuffled his weight, the movement painful to look at. Merlin took a few steps forward, hand out instinctively and Aithusa flinched. Merlin didn’t bother trying to hide his distress as he turned on Morgana. 

“What happened to him?” 

“You don’t know?” she asked mockingly.   
Merlin just looked at her dumbly and shook his head.   
“We were imprisoned,” she said venomously turning away from him abruptly.  
“They captured Aithusa and kept us locked up in the dark in a pit for two long years,” she spat, rage making her voice shake, “It was too small for him to grow.” 

Dread and pity washed over him.   
“Who did?” he croaked out past the lump in his throat.   
“The Sarrum.” 

She swung back on him.   
“Just the kind of ally your king would love. The Sarrum hates our kind,” she said with a vicious smirk, “would you like to hear how he tortured me? I can show you the scars if you think I’m lying.”  
She presented her arms as if to follow through, but Merlin shook his head and took a stumbling step backwards. He didn’t want to see. 

“You still think you can heal him?” she asked mockingly, seeming content to have won a point. There was rage simmering behind her eyes but also a wariness. She wanted him to succeed, that much was obvious. 

Merlin couldn’t think. He couldn’t imagine being locked in darkness. His occasional stays in the dungeons were bad enough. Sunlight was like oxygen to him, like magic, so fundamental and necessary he was sure its loss would kill him. Look at Aithusa, he wondered if it hadn’t driven the dragon mad, or at least dumb. There was a lot he had to think about. 

He glanced back over at Morganna. She was waiting for an answer. He didn’t know what game she was playing. But she knew his secret, knew what he was, if not who he was, and that was dangerous. He could probably get away, find his way back to Camelot. He was sure the knights would be out looking for him. He’d only gone along this far to see what he could learn about her, what secrets she might unwittingly reveal. Instead it was he who had spilled his secret. 

There was only one choice for him now. He had to do what he’d said he would. He owed the dragon that much for his negligence, and he needed to keep an eye on Morgana. It was a dangerous game, but he’d already made his choice when he left Camelot. So he simply looked her in the eye and nodded. 

“Yes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this has taken so long guys, with everything happening, it's been hard to find the motivation to write anything. I know these chapters are short, so I'll try to get things up faster, but I can't make any promises. 
> 
> I hope you and your families are all safe and well.


	15. Chapter 15

Morgana watched Merlin suspiciously. She ignored the subtle pangs of hunger and exhaustion. She was used to those little irritations. Aithusa shifted closer to the serving boy, and Morgana didn’t even pretend not to be watching closely. The shades in the thicket were drawing closer and Morgana felt something in the earth stir, some power she’d never felt before. If she thought for one second Merlin meant to harm the dragon, he wouldn’t live long enough to act, no matter how useful he might be to her. 

Merlin moved softly, speaking in a low calming voice. He didn’t make any sudden moves, and she had to credit him with at least that much sense. Aithusa may be weakened, but he was still a dragon, and that made him more powerful than either of them. He had a difficult time being around humans, besides Morgana of course, who had shared his suffering. Steel and swords made him nervous, and sudden movements could trigger an attack. Morgana had lost more than one potential ally because they underestimated the timid looking creature. 

Merlin settled onto the ground a few feet away, still talking lowly. Despite the unthreatening posture, Morgana still didn’t turn away. She’d been betrayed too many times. She did however concede to start pulling the few supplies she had from her pack. There was a stream nearby where they could draw water, and a few supplies she kept in Aithusa’s makeshift cave, but Merlin could get those things later. 

Merlin was a puzzle she’d never quite been able to solve. He’d never really seemed like a servant, too headstrong and stubborn to be under someone’s command. Arthur didn’t seem to mind the liberties he took, but Morgana knew they staff had gossiped back when she lived in the castle. Surely no one low born, a stranger not even from Camelot, could be so insolent and yet be rewarded so highly. Strange rumours always followed him around. He had few friends, and those he did befriend either disappeared, or were currently sitting at the King’s table. Even Guinevere. 

Just thinking her name reminded Morgana of her anger, but it was a slow, cold burn, not the fire it had been years ago. Even with her dreams she hadn’t really believed a common servant could become Queen, but she had underestimated Arthur and, she thought, Merlin. His first friend in Camelot became Queen, the men he befriended, rogues and ruffians he met by chance, became knights. 

Merlin’s influence at court was far beyond what any servant should have had, with friends in very high places, ear to the king himself. But it had taken seeing his magic for her to really understand just how unusual his position was. She’d constantly underestimated him. She thought back to the time she’d placed the Fomorrah in his neck. Emrys himself had visited her hut not three days later, the creature destroyed and Merlin had been cured. 

She cursed herself for not realising earlier, either Merlin knew who he was, or was at least aware. Only someone close to the serving boy would have even known or been in a position to guess. At the time she’d been too rattled by the appearance of the man who had been called her doom. Now, with this one piece of the puzzle, she was starting to see the bigger picture. Merlin was not who he said he was, that much was clear.

She studied him carefully. The too big ears, the dopey smile, even now he looked ridiculous, like a colt, limbs too long as he sat folded on the ground. But the look in his eyes as he focused on Aithusa…no she had underestimated Merlin too many times. In another life it had almost killed her, would have if not for Morgaus. If he wanted to heal Aithusa, she would let him. It served her own purpose. In the meantime, she intended to learn as much as she could. She had a feeling he could be the key to Arthur’s demise, if only she could work out how. He’d proved far too loyal in the past, but now she knew his weakness, she knew how to play him. 

Sooner or later she would break him, and once she had, Arthur’s doom would follow.


	16. Chapter 16

Merlin threw down a heavy armful of firewood and cast a baleful glare across the clearing at Morgana. He made a show of arranging the fresh supply next to the fire pit, making far more noise than necessary, but Morgana didn’t seem to notice. He snorted to himself. Typical. Even after all these years banished from Camelot, living in hovels and woods and abandoned towers, Morgana was still a noble through and through. She hadn’t lifted a finger to help with the camp, but she was more than happy to help herself to whatever Merlin had bubbling over the fire. 

It irked him that even here, away from the court and any one he cared about, he was still being treated like a servant. But he had to admit, he wouldn’t trust any food prepared by Morgana’s hand. As for the rest, he was seeing to his own needs, with Morgana helping herself to his efforts as she saw fit. 

He bent over the freshly arrange pile and grunted softly in frustration as the flint clicked but refused to spark. This time when he looked up, Morgana was looking at him. She held his gaze for less than a moment before she looked at the firewood and murmured, eyes flashing gold. 

Merlin fell over backwards as he scrambled away from the flames that suddenly leapt two feet high. He glared at her again as he stood, brushing himself off.   
“I could have done that,” he grumbled.  
“Well why didn’t you?” she smirked, standing and making her way over to the fire, making a show of warming her hands despite the relatively warm day. 

Merlin rolled his eyes at her, and stalked off to check his snares, hoping for something fat and tasty to roast for dinner. It wasn’t the first time she’d asked him about his magic. They’d been in the clearing for over a week and she kept needling him, trying to goad him into another reckless display. 

In truth, Merlin couldn’t answer why he didn’t use his magic. It wasn’t as if he didn’t use it to light his campfires on his journey when he was alone. Magic was as easy as breathing, easier sometimes, feeling the power swell within him and he often relied on it for even mundane tasks. But Morgana set him on edge. He didn’t trust her. It didn’t matter that he’d already revealed his power. Anything he did was just further evidence of what he knew, and he felt Morgana’s eyes on him, weighing and assessing. Even when she appeared completely indifferent, he suspected any power he revealed would be carefully catalogued and judged for its usefulness…and seeking his weaknesses. 

He was in an even worse mood when he returned. His snares had been empty and there was nothing but a few sad vegetables left to put in the pot. He never enjoyed camping with the knights, preferring the relative comforts of the palace, but he hadn’t realised how much he benefitted from their hunting skills. It was a rare night the King went to bed without a good meal in his belly, or Merlin either, even if he did have to do all the dirty work. 

Morgana was sitting by the fire, hair and dress dirty and worn, but still managing to look like a queen on a throne. It didn’t improve Merlin’s mood, nor did the sly smile she gave him when she saw his hands were empty. He ignored her, instead going over to the cave where Aithusa spent most of his time. 

The young dragon no longer retreated when he approached, but Merlin was still dismayed by the way he always seemed to cringe at the smallest sound. Healing him wasn’t going to be an easy task. His magic was powerful, but the damage that had been done went deeper than simple wounds or poisons. It was taking all of his skills, both magical and medicinal to even formulate a plan. 

He’d started with something simple. Dragons were creatures of magic, specifically light and air and fire. Merlin didn’t question where that knowledge came from, it was an instinct. But he knew the dark had done as much damage to the dragon as the confined space, stunting his magic as well as his growth. The fact that Aithusa continued to hide in the dark narrow confines of his cave spoke to an even deeper problem, one Merlin was even less equipped to deal with. He needed to convince Aithusa to spend more time in the sun, basking in its rays, but the dragon preferred the safety of his cave. Only Morgana could convince him to venture more than a few feet out of it, and only with a lot of pleading. 

That wasn’t his only problem. Aithusa ate like a bird, barely more than Merlin himself, and he knew that wasn’t good. By his estimate, a creature his size and still growing should have been eating his weight in food every week. Morgana had said they had been fed scraps while they were trapped, barely enough to keep them alive. Her voice had been strained as she described the hole they had been kept in, the way she’d tried to force the young dragon to abandon her, to take what little food they had, to do anything to relieve his suffering. Merlin had to grimly remind himself of the people they’d lost, the way Gaius had suffered at her hands to keep himself from feeling pity for her. 

Worst of all, at night, pitiful cries came from the cave as Aithusa lived his trauma in dreams. The first night Merlin had been awoken in a panic, only to find Morgana already up, watching the moon as it shone through the trees. She hadn’t even turned as the cries echoed through the clearing, but Merlin could tell by the stiffness of her posture that she was not un affected. 

“It happens every night,” she’d murmured, her voice soft and sad. “Go back to sleep.”   
But sleep had been impossible that night and almost every night since, the low moans of anguish impossible to ignore. In his darker moments, when he couldn’t sleep, he wondered if it wouldn’t be better to end Aithusa’s misery once and for all. Only his duty as the last Dragon Lord and the sharp pang of guilt at his failures kept him from ending it. Aithusa was the last of his kind. Merlin had called him forth into this world, he didn’t have the heart to usher him out of it too. 

Merlin knew he needed help. He could help Aithusa’s bones to straighten and his muscles to grow, but unless he could find a way to heal his mind as well, it would all be for nothing. Even confident in his ability to control the dragon with his own powers, there was no telling what a half mad dragon might be capable of. Even crippled, Aithusa was dangerous and the level of control Morgana had over him was concerning. Merlin knew what he needed to do. He swung back to the fire. Something in his posture must have changed, because Morgana stood quickly and faced him defensively. 

“I need to go to Camelot.”  
“Why would I let you do that?” she scoffed instantly.   
“I need to talk to Gaius!” he exclaimed  
“I thought you said you could do this?” she snapped, “If you can’t, just say so, we can end this right here,” she added threateningly. 

Merlin ran a hand through his hair, frustrated.   
“I can heal him physically, but you know there’s more to it than that,” Merlin yelled. He had spent a week confronted with his failures and it felt good to finally released some of the pent-up anger and frustration.   
“Well what do you suppose?” Morgana asked calmly, not rising to his bait.  
“I need to talk to Gaius,” he said again, tone still obstinate, “maybe he’s come across something like this before.”

“You think Gaius has treated a Dragon?” she asked scornfully.  
“No, but maybe, I don’t know, maybe he’s dealt with this kind of trauma before in people,” Merlin continued, “Dragons aren’t that different, maybe he knows something that will help.”   
Morgana paused as if contemplating, turning away from him. Merlin could almost see the thoughts spinning in her mind, her desperate need to help Aithusa being weighed against her distrust of Merlin and the potential that he was tricking her. Slowly she turned to face him again. 

“Why not bring Gaius here?” she suggested, but Merlin was already shaking his head.   
“The trip would kill him.”   
“Yes,” she smiled, “I do seem to remember him being in a bad way when last we met.”   
Her tone was smug and his hands curled into fists in anger, but he didn’t move. She was playing a game, and he knew he needed to keep his temper. Instead he let the silence stretch. Finally she broke. 

“Fine, what do you suggest?”   
“How far is it to Camelot from here?”   
Merlin waited as she paused again. He already knew the answer, but he didn’t want her to know that. Just as he knew she was weighing the value of that knowledge, whether to give it to him or not.   
“Half a day’s walk North,” she said finally, gesturing vaguely to what he knew was the right direction.   
“Give me two days. I can get in and out of the castle without being seen,” he suggested.   
“And how do I know you’ll come back?”   
“You’re just going to have to trust me.”

Morgana stared at him, her eyes narrowed in suspicion. He met her gaze openly. He had nothing to hide. Ok, he did, but this time he wasn’t lying. Aithusa was his responsibility, and Morgana or no, he was now committed to helping him. It was his duty.   
“Swear to me,” she snapped suddenly, “swear to me on Arthur’s life that you’ll come back.”   
Merlin only paused a moment before he nodded.   
“I swear.”   
She still didn’t look convinced but finally she broke her stare, brushing past him towards the cave.   
“You have until Sunrise the day after tomorrow,” she called looking back over her shoulder with a cold smirk.   
“Your time starts now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone is staying safe and well <3 
> 
> Also apparently I've decided that Aithusa is agoraphobic? Wonder if that has anything to do with our current situation....


	17. Chapter 17

Slipping into Camelot was depressingly easy. True, Merlin had done it more than a few times, and knew more than most about the secrets of the castle and the lower town. Still, he felt a strange sort of almost indignation of the part of his city that it was so easily breached. He would definitely have to talk to Arthur about all that when everything returned to normal. 

Maybe he would recommend some of the guards be less heavily armoured he thought vaguely to himself as he slipped into a narrow hiding spot to avoid the guards. The distinctive jingling of their chainmail and weapons wasn’t exactly subtle. They might as well have rung a bell or announced their presence at every turn. It made it far too easy to avoid them. Likewise, he’d have to talk to the King abut guards who wandered away from their posts to investigate every little noise. He knew night watch was boring, and any excuse to stretch their legs welcome, but honestly, throwing some dice down the stairs shouldn’t result in both guards running off down the corridor abandoning the door they were guarding for any old person to slip through. 

He was also going to have to talk to him about having private conversations next to walls with arrow slits in the top. They were an important defence strategy to hamper enemies in the walls and allow defenders to shoot arrows and pour hot oil on invaders. But they also carried sound quite well which made it quite awkward for people skulking about. 

He froze the moment he heard Arthur’s voice. He’d recognise it anywhere, even in his grave, but he’d never heard him sound like this. Even when his father died he hadn’t sounded quite so…broken. 

“Still no sign, Sire.”  
That was Sir Leon, Merlin was sure of it.   
“Well keep looking! He has to be somewhere!” Arthur snapped.   
Merlin flinched in surprise. He was used to that tone, but Arthur usually treated the knights with more respect, especially Leon.   
“I’m sorry, Sire, but have you considered maybe it’s time…”   
“He’s not dead!”   
The silence hung heavy and even Merlin, who knew he was quite alive thank you, felt awful. 

“Sire…”  
“I’m sorry Leon,” Arthur apologised quickly. Merlin could imagine the way his shoulders would rise and fall as he took a deep breath to settle himself, the way he would pinch the bridge of his nose in frustration.  
“I just…I can’t believe he’s gone.”   
“I know Arthur. We’ll keep looking.” 

Merlin heard Leon’s footsteps retreating but he could hear Arthur pacing. He jumped as he heard a dull thump from the other side of the wall and he realised Arthur had punched the wall. He was even more startled when he heard the soft sobs that followed. Merlin carefully moved closer to the wall and pressed a hand against it where he could sense Arthur on the other side. He hadn’t realised how much pain he’d caused his friend. He was used to thinking of Arthur as someone he needed to protect, someone he cared about. Even though he knew Arthur returned at least some of his regard, it was easy to forget that Arthur cared about him too. 

He waited a few minutes, too conscious of how easily sound carried in these stone hallways to risk his footsteps betraying his presence. Finally Arthur seemed to pull himself together and strode off and Merlin made it the rest of the way to Gaius’s chambers without incident. 

It was dark inside, as he expected. It was still an hour or two before dawn and Gaius should have been asleep. But when he stepped inside, there was no sign of him in his bed. For a moment he panicked, imaging all the things that could have happened, but he heard a soft snoring coming from his own room. He pushed the door open carefully, mindful of the hinges that squeaked and smiled softly. Gaius was asleep on his small pallet, one of Merlin’s shirts still held tightly. 

Merlin was overcome as he watched the peaceful rise and fall of his breath and his eyes prickled uncomfortably. It had been easy to walk out of the castle to rescue Gwen from Morgana. He hadn’t really thought about the people he was leaving behind. Quietly, he stepped closer and gently pulled the blanket a little higher. He’d let him sleep a little longer. 

Sitting down beside the bed and leaning back against the frame, he looked around the room at his few meagre possessions, and for the first time felt truly rich.


	18. Chapter 18

Gaius woke but kept his eyes closed. He knew he should get up. There were patients waiting for him, so much work that needed to be done. If only the weight in his chest weren’t so heavy. With his eyes closed, he didn’t have to face his empty chamber, or the extra bowl and mug he didn’t need to use, or the way the quiet was just a little too quiet. 

After a moment though he opened his eyes and rolled over. He hadn’t survived this long by staying in bed and this was hardly the time to start feeling sorry for himself. However, he found his motion stopped by an unfamiliar shape. In the semi darkness of the dawn he took a moment to recognise it as Merlin, leaning back against the bedframe, eyes closed. 

Gaius half fell half scrambled out of bed to lean over him, checking for breath, a pulse, any sign of life, almost shaking with relief when Merlin started as soon as he touched him. Merlin met his gaze sleepily and grinned at him. 

“Mornin’,” he groaned and Gaius had the overwhelming urge to throttle him.   
“Is that all you have to say for yourself?!” he thundered before grabbing him tightly. “I thought you were dead!”   
Merlin hugged back just as hard.   
“You should know better than to underestimate me by now,” he said pulling back with a grin and really he was right, but that didn’t mean he got to be smug about it.   
“Arthur has been beside himself,” Gaius said, both a threat and a recrimination.   
“When isn’t he?” Merlin laughed and stood up helping Gaius rise, and then hugged him again properly. 

They were interrupted abruptly by the sound of Gaius’s doors opening, and Merlin jumped and quickly flattened himself behind the door of his room. Gaius started at him startled, but he just gave Gaius a meaningful look as he shook his head and put a finger to his lips. It only took him a moment to understand. They’d been keeping secrets a long time and Gaius was used to Merlin’s schemes. Gaius recognised Gwaine’s voice as he called out and he gave Merlin one more curious look before he left the room quickly to intercept the knight, making sure to pull the door almost closed to conceal Merlin while allowing him to eavesdrop. 

This wasn’t the first time Gwaine had been by. He’d been coming frequently over the past week. At first Gaius had thought he was hoping to see Merlin had returned. Then he realised Gwaine was checking up on him. It was rather touching in an insulting type of way. He was hardly the type to collapse or spend his days weeping. Though he could admit to a few tears in the last couple of days as the search for Merlin went on with no signs. But he could still be left unsupervised. And now the knight’s hovering had interrupted his reunion with Merlin and his explanation for his disappearance. It made him a little sharper than he meant to when he addressed him.

“What do you want?” he asked brusquely, bustling over to his work bench as if he were in a hurry.   
“I just wanted to see how you’re getting on,” Gwaine replied smiling.   
“Yes, well I’m getting on just fine thank you,” he snapped. “You don’t have to keep checking up on me you know, I’m not senile.”   
“You wound me!” Gwaine replied clutching his chest dramatically, but Gaius thought he saw a hint of genuine hurt on his face and huffed to himself.  
“I don’t mean to be rude, but I’m running a little late,” he conceded. 

Gwaine smiled brightly.  
“Well aren’t you lucky I brought you breakfast?” he said, whipping the hand from behind his back that Gaius hadn’t noticed he was hiding. He was holding a plate of food, clearly pilfered from the kitchens and of far higher quality than anything Gaius usually ate. Gaius took a moment to feel chagrined. Only yesterday he mentioned in passing that he kept going to make breakfast for two by mistake. Either Gwaine was more perceptive than he’d realised, or he was becoming transparent in his old age. Whichever it was the gesture was touching. 

“Thank you, Gwaine,” he said sincerely, with as much warmth as he could manage to make up for his earlier tone.   
“Don’t mention it,” Gwaine said brightly, nodding slightly and turning as if to go. Then he paused for a moment and looked at Gaius.   
“I know you can look after yourself Gaius,” he said, surprisingly serious.   
“It’s just, I know Merlin would want to make sure someone was looking out for you while he’s not here…” Gwaine trailed off with a shrug looking self-conscious. 

“I…” Gaius was speechless. He took a breath and cleared his throat though his voice was still raspy when he spoke.   
“That’s very kind, Gwaine. I know Merlin would appreciate it,” he said honestly.   
“Right, well let me know if there’s anything you need, herbs or whatever,” Gwaine said as he turned and walked out, cheeks slightly pink. Gaius watched him go, and then went to the door to throw the latch to stop anyone else from barging in. 

Merlin poked his head around the door to make sure the coast was clear before he stumbled out. Gaius pretended not to notice that his eyes were watery, and made a point of not looking at him as he cleared some space for them both to sit at the table. 

“Are you going to eat that?” Merlin asked, pointing at the food Gwaine had left. Gaius laughed.   
“So much for looking after me,” he said even as he handed the plate over. Merlin managed a sheepish grin even as he started inhaling the food.   
“Sorry, I haven’t even in a while, and definitely nothing this good.”   
Gaius could believe it, watching him eat. He looked tired and worn, but he didn’t appear injured. He made a note to make sure he took some goldenroot. Finally he couldn’t contain his curiousity. 

“So what happened?”   
That simple question opened the floodgates. Merlin told him about Morgana and the deal he’d made to save Guinevere, his desire to save Aithusa and most damningly, that Morgana now knew he had magic. Gaius just stared at him for a moment, feeling the alarm and fear building. 

“Are you out of your mind?” he yelled at last. Merlin made a quick shushing motion but that only incensed him further.   
“You mean to tell me you disappeared without even saying goodbye and all this time you’ve been with Morgana? How could you be so stupid!?”   
Gaius instantly regretted his words as he watched Merlin’s face fall. He tried to soften his tone as he continued.   
“Surely you can’t seriously mean to go back?”   
“I have to Gaius! You don’t understand. I just…I feel like it’s something I have to do.” 

Gaius already knew arguing was useless. He could see Merlin was determined, and he always followed through, no matter the consequences. It had broken his heart on more than one occasion to see his ward struggle with his conflicting loyalties, torn between the king he’d sworn to protect, their shared destiny, and what Merlin knew to be right. His fear and shame over what he was and his desire to use his magic to help. Gaius knew that some of that shame was his fault, but he couldn’t regret encouraging Merlin to keep his magic secret, to hide who he really was. Merlin’s safety was more important to him than kings or destiny, and magic was dangerous, especially in Camelot. 

Gaius sighed, the weight of the last week catching up with after the elation of Merlin’s return.   
“Well I suppose you’ve managed to last this long,” he conceded, and Merlin grinned at him.   
“You’re sure she doesn’t suspect who you are?” he added.  
“I don’t think so,” Merlin replied and Gaius relaxed just a fraction. He’d suffered a great deal of pain to keep that secret from Morgana. Who knew what she would do with that information? 

“So what do you need?” he asked and then chuckled to himself at Merlin’s surprised expression. He knew Merlin wouldn’t have come back before he was ready if he didn’t need something.  
“I need your help,” he said. Then he explained everything he knew about Aithusa and his condition. 

Gaius listened in growing horror. Despite his renouncement of the old ways, he’d never quite shaken his faith, and some forgotten corner of his soul wept at the idea of a dragon, one of the most powerful and revered magical creature reduced to such a pitiful state. That any creature should be forced to endure that kind of pain and suffering. It was an atrocity. 

As he spoke, Gaius could see how much it had affected Merlin, seeing Aithusa like that and he could guess at the guilt the boy was heaping on himself. He blamed himself for that too. He’d been overly hasty in saying the dragon’s fate lay in Merlin’s hands. Aithusa was a free creature and had made his own choices. His fate could never be Merlin’s responsibility, even if Merlin had chosen to bring him into this world. It was a truth every parent had to learn. 

“Do you know how to help him?” Merlin asked finally.   
Gaius looked at his young ward, the boy who he’d long since thought of as a son. He remembered just how young and scared he’d looked when they’d first met. Merlin was no longer a boy. He was a man now, a man Gaius was proud of, one who would make his own decisions. 

Gaius nodded.   
“I think I know what to do.”


	19. Chapter 19

It was dark again before Merlin left Gaius’s chambers. He was pensive and preoccupied, thinking over what Gaius had told him. That was why he didn’t notice he was being watched until a strong hand landed on his shoulder and dragged him into a shadowed wall sconce just before a pair of (silent, unarmoured) guards rounded the corner. Spinning to face his saviour and potential foe Merlin was only mildly surprised to see Gwaine grinning at him before he was caught up in a fierce hug. 

The fatigue and stress of the past week seemed to wash out of him as he gratefully returned the embrace before he remembered why this was a very bad thing. He looked out into the now empty corridor to make sure there were no more witnesses before turning back to his friend but Gwaine beat him to it. 

“Trying to sneak out?”  
Merlin looked abashed but nodded.  
“Listen Gwaine, I can explain…” he started but Gwaine interrupted him.  
“Don’t worry about it Merlin,” he said easily, “I’m just glad you’re alive.”  
He sounded light-hearted but Merlin could see the strain around his eyes, and the tension in his shoulders and he knew that Gwaine wasn’t as unaffected as he was pretending.  
“Seriously? I thought you’d have a dozens of questions.”  
“Oh hundreds, but I’m sure you have your reasons.” 

Merlin stared at him dumbfounded and Gwaine chuckled at the no doubt comical look on his face.  
“We’ve been friends a long time Merlin, I trust you,” he said simply.  
“Although you might want to tell Gaius to work on his poker face,” Gwaine added with a wink before stepping out into the hall. “Do you mind if I accompany you?”  
“I’d love that,” Merlin said honestly, grinning. He’d never been more grateful for his friend. 

The corridors were quiet as they went, most of the staff busy serving dinner and the nobles busy eating it. They made it back down to the hidden tunnels under the dungeon without any trouble. It was too risky to speak, but Merlin still took comfort in the warm bulk of Gwaine as he padded softly along beside him. Not for the first time Merlin noticed that Gwaine moved smoothly and silently, forgoing his armour whenever practical. His cloak whispering over the stones was the only sound he made as it billowed behind him.

Too soon they reached the door and Merlin turned to face his friend. He was half hidden in the shadows, expression unreadable as he offered a hand in farewell. Merlin took it firmly and pulled him into a fierce hug. He had a daunting task ahead of him and he didn’t know when he’d see his friends again. Gwaine held just as tight before drawing back and looking into his face, hand on his shoulder. 

“Look after yourself Merlin,” he said seriously.  
Merlin nodded. “I will,”  
“I mean it,” he added, “if you get into trouble, or you need anything, you let me know alright?”  
“We will meet again Gwaine,” Merlin promised. Gwaine just smiled at him.  
“We better.”

With that, Merlin slipped through the gate and out into the night. He had another promise to keep and miles to go before dawn.


	20. Chapter 20

Merlin moved softly through the trees, guided by moonlight and the few glimmering stars that could be seen through the canopy above. It was passing midnight. This early in the year he still had hours before dawn, more than enough time to make it back to the clearing before Morgana’s deadline. He crested a familiar hill and the trees opened into a clearing. 

The stars burned above him and Merlin took a moment to breath deep the cool night air and listen to the trees rustling around him. It never occurred to him to be afraid, travelling alone through the forest at night. Alone was where he was safe, where his power was free to protect him as it was needed. In truth he was safer here now than he ever was in Camelot.

Had been. 

Slowly, he brought his senses into focus, tuning out the background hum of magic that permeated every living thing, focusing instead on the power inside him, dredging it to the surface. He called out, his voice a living thing, hoarse and choked by a mortal body uttering immortal words. It didn’t take long to receive an answer. 

The deep thrumming of wings could be heard to the west, swiftly drawing nearer. Merlin could never be sure where Kilgharrah spent his days, or how, preferring not to think too hard about it. He still remembered those terrible days besieged and suffering the dragon’s wrath before he had gained the power to control him. He did not like to think of others suffering that same fate, nor did he have the heart to restrain the dragon’s freedom after so many years of being imprisoned. So, he chose not to think of it. Instead he was only grateful that the dragon was swift in heeding him when he called, the old animosity long since buried. 

The backdraft from his wings buffeted Merlin as the dragon landed and settled his considerable bulk comfortably on the hillside. From his composure, he could have been an invited guest at a tea party rather than a hastily summoned co-conspirator and former enemy. 

“Why have you summoned me?” Kilgharrah asked, tone amused as it often was. Merlin could never shake the feeling he was being indulged. Seeing the sharp rows of teeth that flashed as the dragon spoke did little to dispel the feeling of a child being humoured by a bigger, smarter adult. Or maybe more like a mouse before cat. 

“I want to know what happened to Aithusa,” Merlin replied, voice stern and even. He was used to their game by now.   
“I can honestly say I don’t know,” Kilgharrah replied evenly, looking surprised, and Merlin flushed just a little. It was a long time since he’d asked the dragon about anything that didn’t concern Arthur.   
“You were supposed to look after him,” Merlin accused.   
“I was supposed to do no such thing,” Kilgharrah rumbled, “it is not in the nature of dragons to coddle their young. Aithusa is responsible for his own fate.” 

Merlin stared at him blankly. It was rather a confirmation of his suspicions, but to hear it stated so plainly was still a shock.   
“So you’re telling me, after we went to all that trouble to rescue the egg and all your speeches about ‘the last dragon’, you just left him alone?”   
“Don’t misunderstand me, young warlock. I care deeply about his fate. But Aithusa is a creature of magic, as you and I are. It is not our place to stand in the way of his destiny.” 

Merlin stared at him incredulous.   
“He was a baby!” Merlin protested.   
“He is a dragon!” Kilgharrah growled back, a hint of annoyance creeping into his voice, hackles rising. The dragon surveyed him for a moment, before he settled down into a more relaxed pose. 

“Sometimes I forget how very young you are, and how little you understand.” The dragon stated plainly. Merlin barely suppressed an angry retort and settled for a frustrated sigh. Half the time he was convinced Kilgharrah spoke in riddles to confuse him, the other half that he was just too dim-witted the understand. Now, he just thought the dragon was mad. 

“He allied himself with Morgana,” Merlin hissed. His voice shook with barely supressed anger and sadness as he explained what had become of Aithusa.   
Kilgharrah listened impassively, his damnable composure making Merlin feel even more out of control as he tried to illicit some kind of response. But even when he tried to convey the sheer horror of Aithusa’s present state the dragon remained unmoved.   
“I will not pretend I am not surprised,” Kilgharrah said, “but I stand by what I said. Aithusa chose his fate.”   
Merlin wondered when he’d stopped thinking of the dragon as wise. He wondered what it must be like to be so cold. 

“That doesn’t mean he had to do it alone,” he answered, suddenly feeling tired and very, very old. He could almost feel the weight of his mistakes, choices made on the advice of this dragon who had betrayed him without a second thought. Merlin had thought he was past that bitterness, but he could taste it lingering on his tongue as he spoke. 

“You’re right, he is free to make his own choices. And so am I. I’m going to help him,” he declared, the words sounding like a promise, “whether you want to help me with that or not is up to you.”   
“Are you sure that’s wise, with Morgana as his ally?” the dragon rumbled, though Merlin could swear there was a hint of shame in his eyes.   
“Maybe I can show him a better way. The least I can do is try.” 

Kilgharrah was silent a long moment. Then he sighed, his whole body deflating as he did so.   
“Perhaps you are right, Merlin.”   
Merlin wasn’t sure which was more startling, the admission or the respect in his voice as he said his name.  
“I am dying,” Kilgharrah admitted, “I have lived longer than most of my kind and soon I will sleep. But before I do, I will pass what knowledge I can onto the young dragon. He is the last of us. It is only right.” 

“I…”.   
“It is the cycle of life. No more, no less.” Kilgharrah said simply.  
“I’m sorry,” Merlin said softly, anger draining from him. Kilgharrah was many things, but one of those was a friend.   
“Do not despair Merlin,” he said, surprisingly gentle, “I will not leave you yet.”   
Merlin inclined his head gratefully, still lacking the words.

“Now tell me,” Kilgarrah continued, suddenly all business, “do you have a plan?”  
“Yes,” Merlin confirmed.   
“Tell me,” the dragon commanded. And so Merlin did. 

It didn’t take long to outline what he’d learned from Gaius. When he was done, Kilgharrah looked at him skeptically.   
“And how do you expect to achieve all that while fulfilling your duties with Arthur?”   
“I’m not,” Merlin admitted. Being away from Camelot, even for a week, had been difficult. Leaving had been almost impossible. He hadn’t been away from Arthur for this long in almost a decade. But he had a duty to more than just Arthur, and Arthur had his knights and Gaius to protect him. The Disir had given Arthur one year, and Merlin believed they would hold to that promise. Whatever doom Mordred would bring, it would wait until then. 

He didn’t explain any of that to Kilgharrah. Instead he merely shrugged.  
“Arthur can manage without me for a couple of weeks,” he said nonchalant.   
Kilgharrah didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t say anything. He simply shifted slightly and raised his head to smell the air. Merlin realised the chill that heralded the first light of dawn had fallen during their time in the clearing and he still needed to get back to Morgana. Kilgharrah too seemed anxious to be off. It was rare to see the dragon in daylight. 

“I will see you again,” Merlin promised.  
“I guarantee it,” Kilgarrah answered. “Call for me when the time comes.”   
Merlin nodded and lifted a hand in farewell. Kilgharrah surprised him by gently touching the very tip of his nose against his palm, the barest brush of scales on skin before he stretched his wings and leapt into the sky. 

Merlin watched for only a moment before turning his back and venturing under the trees racing the dawn. 

Morgana was waiting.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I kind of always assumed Kilgharrah and Merlin just kind of abandoned Aithusa after he hatched because Merlin certainly wasn't looking out for him and I didn't think the "Great Dragon" was going to be any more helpful than he previously had been. It wasn't until I started writing this that I realised a majority of the fandom seems to assume Kilgharrah was looking after him. So I gave that idea to Merlin and kept my original head canon as the main part of this story, but either way the show isn't clear. 
> 
> Whichever interpretation is correct, I think we can all agree they done screwed up. Like. A lot.

Morgana stared across the clearing, a look that could kill if only the subject of it were paying attention. Merlin’s voice was soft and coaxing as he spoke to Aithusa who was taking careful steps around the open space. He was tentative and still refused to go far from the cave, but it was progress. Merlin threw her an excited grin. Morgana scowled. 

It had been two weeks since Merlin had thwarted her plans, two weeks since he’d walked into that tower and exchanged his help for Guinevere and he was _still here_. When he’d made some feeble excuse to return to Camelot for supplies and advice, she’d let him go. She knew what she needed to, and while blackmail wasn’t as firm a hold as the magic she’d intended to enthral Gwen, she could make it work. It had been a risk worth taking for Aithusa’s sake, or rather it was an offer she couldn’t live with ignoring. It would eat at her, scratching away at the back of her mind, the niggling possibility that he could be healed. But when Merlin had left, she’d known it was useless. 

Then he’d come back. 

She’d been asleep in the cave, curled up around Aithusa as they’d slept for years. She was only still there because she had nowhere else to go. The fact that Merlin knew where the clearing and Aithusa were and could be leading a legion of knights back to kill him had also occurred to her. She didn’t really think Merlin would, but she had underestimated him before to her detriment. 

There was no part of her that had considered he would come back. When the sounds of an intruder had woken her just before dawn, it was only luck that had saved him from being thrown across the clearing before she’d realised who it was. That he’d come back laden with herbs and medicines and babbling about whatever Gaius had said was even more shocking. 

It had been a long time since someone had kept their word to her. Of all people, she hadn’t expected it to be Merlin. Merlin who had been the first to betray her openly, trading her life for the sake of Camelot without hesitation. Merlin, who had somehow bested Morgause, the only one left standing in the room while her sister lay crippled. 

Merlin who promised he would come back…

She knew it had to be a trick. Some trap laid for her. Any moment she expected Arthur and his knights to surround the clearing. Not that she was afraid of course. She was too powerful now to fear any ordinary blade. It might even be her best chance to kill Arthur herself, out here in the forest with no walls to defend him. Except he never came. And Merlin stayed. And Aithusa already seemed to be getting better. 

It all made for a rather confusing puzzle. She couldn’t understand what game Merlin was playing, except that it was a long one, and more subtle than she would have expected. She mentally chided herself for underestimating him again. Even knowing his secret, knowing what he was, she still thought of him as the bumbling, awkward fool who followed Arthur around like a lost puppy. But that image of him didn’t fit with the truth. Merlin was clever, far cleverer than she had ever suspected, to be able to hide in plain sight, to keep his magic a secret without burying it completely. It spoke of patience and caution, things she would never have associated him with before. It also spoke of luck, but that ran out for everyone eventually. She would know. 

So, for now, she settled for glaring at him, watching every move carefully. She demanded him to identify every herb, every potion he fed Aithusa, testing them herself for any ill effects. It would be a poor way to repay the dragon’s kindness to let Merlin poison him, even if it was by accident. But it was clear Merlin knew what he was doing. It had been years since she had seen him in anything other than the heat of battle, and it was clear he had learned much from Gaius. He had steady hands as he mixed and measured and ground herbs with care and patience. It would almost have been charming to see her former friend grown up so well if only she hadn’t been waiting for his knife in her back. 

When she wasn’t watching Merlin, (she was always watching Merlin) she flipped idly through one of the few tomes of magic she had stored in the cave. They were rare and precious books, some of the few survivors of Uther’s purge, and worth more than all the gold in the kingdom. Morgause had taught her much, but these books held the knowledge of generations. Every time she ran her fingers over their pages she felt the slow hot burn of anger at what Uther had taken from her people. So much knowledge, so much power had been lost to his fear and ego. 

She was memorising a rather effective curse, eyes narrowed in concentration as she committed the words to memory, feeling their shape and power, the way they would roll off the tongue. It was the book she blamed for not noticing Merlin beside her, peering curiously over her shoulder. 

Startled, she slammed the book shut, hiding the wince she felt at treating the book so roughly, and Aithusa jumped, slithering back into his cave. It was only then she realised he’d been laying in a patch of sunlight for almost half the morning, the longest he’d spent outside willingly since he was an infant. That knowledge was enough to take some of the bite from voice as she snapped at Merlin. 

“What are you doing?”  
Instead of backing away Merlin had the nerve to give her a foolish half smile and move closer, trying to see the title of the book over her shoulder. She hugged it tighter and turned away.  
“Where did you get that?” he asked, curious, and she would have been tempted to test the curse out on him if it weren’t for the quiet awe in his voice.  
“It’s a book Merlin, perhaps you’ve seen one before?” she snapped waspish and gave him a withering glare. To her chagrin, it had no effect, he just rolled his eyes.  
“Yes, I can see that Morgana, I asked where you got it from, not what it was,” he answered peevishly.  
“None of your business.”

She stalked into the cave, knowing she was going to have to hide them now. She collected the other two and wedged them into an even darker corner, placing a stone over them to disguise them. It was the best she could do for now. Then she crept over to Aithusa. 

“I’m sorry I startled you. Won’t you come back out?”  
They didn’t need words to communicate. The way he looked at her, she knew she was forgiven. He glanced past her, out of the cave entrance and she followed his gaze towards Merlin, now patiently sitting on one of the logs he’d carried into the clearing to serve as a chair. He was fiddling with something in his pack, seemingly unaware of his surveillance. 

“We could leave,” she said softly, startling even herself, “we don’t have to stay here if you don’t want to.”  
Aithusa gave her an assessing look, then turned back to watch Merlin. Long seconds passed before he tipped his head abruptly, a signal she clearly interpreted as a no. The only surprise was that she’d been expecting it.  
“Is he really helping?”  
A definite nod this time. She sighed.  
“Don’t get attached,” she warned, “you’ll only be disappointed.”

She wasn’t sure which of them she was talking to.


	22. Chapter 22

Merlin cursed quietly to himself as he checked the last snare. Empty. He reset it carefully, brushing the leaves back over it to conceal the loop and continued to grumble as he made his way back to the clearing empty handed. It was the second day in a row the snares had come back empty and they were running dangerously low on fresh game. He kept an eye out for edible plants as he went for himself and Morgana, but that wouldn’t feed a dragon. 

One of the side effects of Aithusa’s improvement was the dragon’s increased appetite. Merlin had been carefully working herbs into his food, designed to improve his mood, steady his mind and increase his appetite. And they were working. Aithusa was now eating several times a day, leaving the cave for hours to bask in the sun. The combination of food and sunlight was having a marked difference on the young dragon. His scales had regained some of the lustre they’d once had, and his ribs were no longer so pronounced. 

This was all good news, and Merlin was glad to see his care and work was paying off. But it also meant that Merlin was having to work twice as hard to find enough food for him. Morgana had told him Aithusa was capable of hunting on his own, but that didn’t help when Merlin needed to mix his medicine in with his food. He supposed he could mix it in the water, but Gaius had made it clear that some remedies worked best when taken with a meal and he didn’t want to risk diluting the effects. 

Morgana didn’t look up at him as he entered the familiar hollow, but he could feel her smirk even with her back turned. She radiated an irritating smugness that frayed his already tattered patience.   
“You could offer to help you know,” he sniped uselessly as he threw himself on the ground beside the fire pit. It was too late in the day to hope for anything to put in the supper pot and the idea of another dinner of sad vegetables didn’t improve his mood.   
Now Morgana did turn, and Merlin could see the expected smirk pulling at the corners of her mouth, making her eyes crinkle just a little.   
“Why don’t you just use your magic?” she asked sweetly.   
Merlin rolled his eyes. They’d been having this argument for weeks. Any time he asked Morgana to pull her weight, Morgana countered that Merlin could easily achieve whatever it was with magic. He couldn’t tell if she was trying to force him into revealing more of his power, or if she was just lazy. He suspected it was a little bit of both. She had been a noble after all. Either way Merlin refused. Performing magic in front of anyone still felt taboo, and he had reason to be cautious. In this case though he had a ready answer. 

“It doesn’t seem fair,” he said ruefully with a shrug.   
Morgana stared at him in disbelief.  
“Fair?” she repeated, surprise and disdain warring in her tone. Merlin just shrugged again.   
“Well yeah, I mean, a rabbit doesn’t have magic, it’s not a fair fight,” Merlin explained, “besides, magic makes me feel alive, seems wrong to use it to kill something.”   
“You killed those men,” Morgana argued. Merlin couldn’t read the expression on her face, but her tone was sharp.   
“They were going to kill me, I can’t say the same for the rabbit,” Merlin said stubbornly. 

Morgana stared at him a moment longer, something unreadable in her eyes before she stalked off into the cave. Merlin settled himself more comfortably, not expecting her to return anytime soon. He was therefore surprised when she marched back out with a quiver strapped across her back and a bow in hand. Merlin started, for a moment remembering a time before, a time when Morgana and Arthur would roam these woods hunting and exchanging well intentioned insults. A time where a bow in the hand of Morgana did not immediately register as a threat. 

Morgana walked into the trees, her posture stiff with anything from anger to self-consciousness and Merlin stayed wisely silent. It was the first time Morgana had done anything resembling help, and he didn’t know how he’d achieved it. He’d only been honest. 

It occurred to him how rare that was. Sometime between a simple peasant boy arriving in Camelot, awed by its size, and now, he’d become mired in lies and subterfuge and plots. He wondered idly when he’d lost his innocence. Just one more thing sacrificed at the altar of Arthur’s destiny.

A soft tread through the undergrowth heralded Morgana’s return some time later, as the sun was edging below the horizon. She dropped a few rabbits at his feet, already skinned which was surprisingly thoughtful of her before she heaved the deer carcass off her shoulders for Aithusa. The dragon edged closer, drawn by the smell of blood, but Merlin waved him off. From his satchel he drew the carefully prepared mixture of herbs and added a small amount to a bowl. He tried not to think too hard about what he was doing as he mixed them with blood from the deer. Aithusa obediently opened his mouth and Merlin poured the concoction in before the dragon dragged his meal back into the cave. A deer would last him at least a few days, even a small one.

Before Merlin could thank her, either for the deer, or skinning the rabbits, she was already stalking off again. Merlin let her go. No doubt she was heading to the stream to wash off the blood and sweat and smell. She may have been a skilled hunter in Camelot, but there were no servants here to carry the game and leave her noble hands clean from the kill. Here there were consequences. 

Instead, he got to work efficiently stripping the meat from bone and fussing with the pot as he set the stew to simmer. An enticing smell was wafting around the clearing and the first stars were visible in the summer sky before Morgana returned. Merlin was surprised to see she’d changed her dress and wondered vaguely if she’d simply magicked herself new clothes or if she had supplies hidden all around the grove. It wasn’t the first time he’d wondered where she lived and how she survived out in the woods alone. It was the first time he’d wondered if she wished she was somewhere else. 

Merlin handed her a bowl silently and Morgana took it without a word. But a host of unsaid things simmered below the surface. For once, Merlin wasn’t the first to speak. 

“You’re not wrong you know,” she started, staring into the fire. Merlin watched the flames reflected in her eyes. “Magic comes from the earth, it binds every living thing and keeps the balance between life and death.”   
Merlin shivered despite the warm evening. He’d heard something like this before.   
“Keeping that balance was the responsibility of the High Priestess of the Old Religion.”   
“Like you,” Merlin said. Morgana made a derisive sound but didn’t deny it.   
“Why are you telling me this,” he asked softly.   
“We’re kin,” she said, sounding slightly hysterical at the thought. Merlin couldn’t blame her. There was a time when Merlin would have protested at once. 

He said nothing.   
“I know you despise me for trying to kill your precious Arthur,” Morgana spat, “but you have no idea the atrocities he’s caused.”  
“Uther caused,” Merlin corrected, voice stony.   
“You think Arthur is so different?” she scoffed.   
“I know he is,” Merlin replied firmly.

For once Morgana didn’t protest. Silence fell between them.   
“Why do you serve him?” she asked suddenly. Her tone was mocking but Merlin could tell there was a genuine curiosity there. So he answered honestly.  
“Because I believe it’s his destiny to restore magick and unite Albion.”   
Morgana laughed.   
“You can’t really believe that?”   
“I’ve seen it.”   
Morgana stopped laughing.   
“You really think Arthur is going to restore the Old Religion? He hates magic, just like his father.”   
“Arthur is not his father. You know him better than that.” 

Merlin could tell by her expression that he was walking a dangerous path but he decided to push just a little further.   
“What if I told you he was already planning on allowing magic back into Camelot?”   
“I’d say you’re lying,” she snapped at once. Merlin shrugged easily, as if he wasn’t talking about the fulfillment of his destiny and everything he had worked and sacrificed for.   
“I guess we’ll see.” 

He rose and took their bowls to the river to wash leaving Morgana alone by the fire. 

She was still there hours later when he rolled himself into his blanket and fell asleep.


	23. Chapter 23

Arthur paced like a caged tiger on the dais, not even trying to conceal his irritation as he listened to one of the lords deliver his report. The wheat yields this year would be higher than they expected, the grapes on the south side of Camelot would make a fine vintage this year if they were kept for wine, or sweet enough to eat straight from the vine, which would he prefer? All the signs of a prospering kingdom of peace and plenty. Normally Arthur would take pride in this, but not today. 

He saw the way the knights exchanged looks, each one haggard and sleepless as Arthur himself was. It had been over a month since Merlin had left and Arthur could scarcely claim more than a handful of snatched hours sleep in all that time. It was exhaustion as much as irritation that made him snap. Before he could utter a word though there was a soothing hand on his arm and Guinevere stepped forward. She was like a balm on a wound and she spoke kindly and confidently, more than could be said for what he had been about to do. 

“That’s excellent news,” she said brightly, “have them store the excess grain, we never know when we might need it in the future. And halve the grapes, let us enjoy some fresh now, and keep the rest for wine. Does that sound acceptable Arthur?” 

She gave him a pointed look that the Lord couldn’t see, and he nodded hastily.   
“Ah yes, just so.”   
That was all that was required from him as Guinevere took over handling the details, and Arthur was sure he’d never been more grateful for his wife and Queen. She had proved herself a hundred times over at court, deftly handling the nobles. Some of the older Lords still looked at him for approval but after three years she had earned their trust and their respect. 

Finally the last of them were gone and Arthur threw himself back into his throne, face buried in his hands. Dimly he was aware of his knights filing out as well, betrayed by the slight jingle from their armour. When they were alone he sensed Gwen standing in front of him and instinct had him wrapping his arms around her waist, his face hidden by the soft folds of her dress. Gentle hands brushed through his hair but her tone was unyielding when she spoke. 

“Arthur this has to stop,” she said firmly, “you can’t keep doing this. Your kingdom needs you.” 

“I can’t give up on him Gwen,” he said roughly. He didn’t need to pretend he didn’t know what she was talking about.   
“No one’s asking you to give up, Arthur. But Merlin wouldn’t want this, you know he wouldn’t”  
“We don’t know what he wants, he’s not here is he?” he said petulantly. 

Guinevere drew away sharply forcing him to look up at her.  
“Do you think I don’t feel the same way? Do you think I don’t feel guilty? It was my life he saved, I’m the reason he’s gone!”

Arthur paled, the anger in her voice was palpable. 

“He was my friend long before he was yours. He has always been so kind to me. He gave me a place to live when I was banished, he welcomed me into his home, his family. So don’t you sit there thinking you’re the only one who lost someone important! Gwaine is heartbroken but you don’t see him skulking around shirking his duties. Or Gaius! Merlin is the closest thing he has to a son, but he still does his job. And you know why? Because that’s what Merlin would want. He didn’t give himself up so you could mope about all day. He put all his faith in you Arthur, he gave up his life for you, more than once. Is this really how you’re going to repay him?” 

Arthur sat shocked as her words rang in the air and her breathing was loud in the silence that followed. They stared at one another for a long moment before the heat drained out of her face and she took a small half step towards him. 

“Arthur I’m sorry I shouldn’t have-“   
“Guinevere,” he interrupted, “have I told you lately how much I love you?”   
With that he stood and picked her up, swinging her around to kiss her thoroughly. He’d always known she had a temper. The first time she’d dressed him down for being a poor house guest was the first time he’d really noticed her as a person and he’d been ashamed to admit he’d thought of the servants as kind of meek shadows, worthy of his protection but not his notice. 

He kissed her fiercely, remembering all the reasons he loved her and she giggled as she broke away from him.   
“Well if I’d known that was all it took to snap you out of it, I would have done it weeks ago.” She said still laughing. Arthur laughed with her before they both sobered.   
“I’m sorry Gwen.” He said sincerely.   
“You are our King, Arthur, you cannot put the fate of one person before everyone else, no matter how important they are. Not Merlin, not even me.” She said solemnly. Arthur nodded to show he understood, though he didn’t entirely agree. 

He remembered the days they’d spent slashing their way through that cursed swamp, going in circles, making no progress. He remembered how desolate he’d felt, how desperate knowing the two most important people had been taken from him. Reading Merlin’s letter, knowing he’d gone after Morgana alone, it had filled his heart with fear for his friend. Whatever plot Morgana had for Gwen; he knew she understood the value of a Queen as a bargaining chip. If she had wanted Gwen dead, they’d have found her body along with his knights. That she’d been taken meant a trap for him, one he’d been happy to walk into to save his wife. 

Merlin had known that. He’d known it was a trap and refused to let Arthur walk into it. But Morgana had no use for a servant and with no status to protect him, Arthur had feared the worst. He still had no idea what Merlin bargained Gwen’s life with, what he’d used to entice Morgana into a deal, but when Gwen had stumbled, dirty and tired but alive, into their midst in that awful swamp, he hadn’t questioned it. He still didn’t. He knew Merlin was loyal, had risked his own life to save both of theirs. 

It made Merlin’s loss all the harder to bear, knowing it had been done in his service. Arthur wasn’t sure he valued his kingdom over the lives of his friends and family. He wasn’t sure he wouldn’t happily give up his throne to see his friend return safely. But he also knew that wasn’t an option. Gwen was right. He’d been moping, letting others run his kingdom in his stead. That wasn’t what Merlin had sacrificed himself for. It was time to pull himself together. 

“You’re right Gwen. We have work to do”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I've been gone so long, life got crazy


	24. Chapter 24

Merlin was breathing hard as he pulled firmly on Aithusa’s left wing, stretching it to it’s full spread. The dragon keened in protest but didn’t flinch. This had become part of their daily routine as Merlin sought to understand the full range of motion the Dragon was capable of, moving his muscles in an attempt to strengthen them and improve their condition. It was something Gaius had taught him long ago, intended as a way to strengthen muscle after they’ve removed a bandage off a broken limb in a human patient, but Merlin supposed it would benefit as much here. 

Merlin couldn’t fathom how Aithusa flew with his wings in this condition. As with most of his body, the muscle in his wings were cramped and small, tension held in every possible strand. It was not the first time Merlin suspected he used more magic than wings to fly. He dug his fingers into one particularly tender knot and Aithusa squealed again and let out a small burst of flame, thankfully not aimed at Merlin. 

“You’re hurting him!” Morgana snapped at him as she often did during these sessions. Merlin ignored her as he massaged the tense bundle of muscle until he felt it release slightly. He moved down to the next knot, a little less carefully than his should have. It was hard work and he was getting tired. He put too much pressure on a sensitive spot, and he felt himself tipped backwards as Aithusa flipped his wing up and out of Merlin’s reach darting back into his cave where he knew Merlin couldn’t reach him. 

Merlin picked himself up out of the dirt to the sound of Morgana’s laughter. It was a rare sound, devoid of the usual malice or anger and Merlin could only grin helplessly as he brushed grass off his shirt. He’d been almost finished anyway and there was no use reprimanding the small dragon even as he poked his head out of the cave and contributed his own gravelly chuckle. While he still couldn’t talk with his mind, he had started using his voice in other ways. The first time he’d laughed both Morgana and he had come running, convinced he was choking. It only made him laugh harder and his human companions had exchanged a rare look of delight. 

Aithusa’s progress was advancing every day. While his limp was still pronounced, Merlin could already see the progress that was being made by stretching his limbs daily. Soft pulses of healing magic into the limbs during each session helped speed the healing. While Merlin could never help counting the number of days he’d been away, he knew they were making excellent progress. Healing was a slow process as Gaius often said, and he was already hurrying it as much as he dared. 

“Serves you right,” Morgana sniffed at him, her amused expression taking the sting out of the words and Merlin just shook his head grinning. The atmosphere in the glade was one of easy companionship, far from the tense and distrustful air of just a few weeks prior. As much as Merlin tried to remind himself he was working with his enemy, that kind of constant resentment wasn’t in his nature. Easy smiles had replaced distrustful glares and for her part, Morgana had stopped glowering at him every time he moved. Aithusa likewise trusted him more and more daily, no longer flinching when he touched him. It was a tenuous truce, one Merlin knew would inevitably break, but for now he was enjoying his time in the forest, away from the endless drudgery in the castle, especially now Morgana had agreed to take on the hunting and there was fresh game every night. 

Merlin tracked Aithusa’s progress daily. He’d bulked up over the past couple of months, his muscles growing to fill in the spaces where bones jutted from his neck and spine, turning them into proper spikes in place of the wavy ridges that had been in their place. From what Merlin understood of their anatomy, those spines were important for attaching the muscles of his wings and chest, giving them greater power. It was important for Aithusa’s muscles to attach properly to the bone if he was to attain the bulk Merlin knew he would as he grew, if Kilgharrah was anything to judge by. Though the more Merlin studied the dragon’s physiology up close the more he realised how much Kilgharrah himself had been affected by his capture. While the cavern under the castle was significantly bigger than a well, it was still too small for a dragon to exercise fully. Merlin also doubted they were feeding him well. That or Camelot experienced a sudden flush of wealth once they were no longer supporting the needs of a fully grow dragon. 

It was during another of their stretching sessions that Morgana spoke. She always closely observed whenever Merlin was near the dragon. He tried not to take her distrust personally. He knew what a concession it was for her to allow him near Aithusa at all now that he understood just how attached to the young dragon she was. She normally observed in silence but not today. 

“What are you doing?”   
It was such a simple question, but Merlin knew it for the concession it was.   
“I’m stretching his muscles to make sure they move properly.” He answered easily, not turning from his work.   
“Yes I can see that,” she huffed, “I meant the spell.”   
“Just a simple charm, it helps encourage muscle growth.”  
She was silent for a while and Merlin continued working in silence, muttering spells under his breath. 

“Teach me?” She asked finally, her tone making it more of a command than a question. Merlin just snorted a laugh.   
“And why would I do that? As far as I can tell the only reason you haven’t murdered me in my sleep is because I know how to heal him and you don’t,” he replied bluntly. Aithusa looked at him and Merlin could interpret the reproach in that gaze, but he was unrepentant.   
“Oh, come on Merlin I thought we were past that,” Morgana said, her tone matching Aithusa’s expression.   
“Don’t ‘Merlin’ me, you think it only takes a couple of months to forget what you did to Guinevere? Or Gwaine? Or Gaius?” Merlin snapped; his tone hard but his hands gentle as he continued working on the dragon. Behind him Morgana shifted uncomfortably. 

In truth if he’d really suspected she intended to harm him, he wouldn’t leave his back so exposed, or let her so close during these sessions when most of his concentration was taken up with knitting the dragons body back together piece by tiny piece. It taxed even his vast reserves of magic and if it came to a fight, he knew he’d be too exhausted to put up much resistance. But the truth was, while he hadn’t forgiven her, he trusted she no longer wished to murder him the second his guard was down. 

“I’m sorry about Gaius,” she said finally. Her voice was so quiet he barely caught the words in the silence of the forest and Merlin stopped his work long enough to turn and meet her eye. This wasn’t something he hadn’t expected.   
“Gaius was kind to me as a child,” Morgana continued, “I didn’t enjoy causing him pain.”   
“And the others?” Merlin asked finally.   
“Are my enemies,” Morgana snapped, a light going out in her green eyes. Merlin considered her carefully for a moment before turning back to the dragon. Even Aithusa seemed reluctant to intrude on this moment, his breathing shallow and quiet as he looked between the two humans. 

“How about a trade?” Merlin proposed at last.   
“What kind of trade?” Morgana asked cautiously, her distrust evident in her tone.   
“I’ll teach you healing if you teach me about the Old Religion,” Merlin proposed. He tried to keep his posture nonchalant and his movements steady as he continued working, as if this was a whim, a thought of the moment and not a deep burning desire fuelled by his curiosity. He could feel Morgana studying him but he didn’t turn around. Finally she answered. 

“Deal.”


	25. Chapter 25

If Merlin had expected Morgana to be a harsh teacher, he was surprised. Despite her tendency to snap and roll her eyes at his incompetence; she was surprisingly thorough and patient. Despite his best efforts to conceal what he knew, she very quickly deduced the somewhat disparate nature of his existing knowledge. In his defence, his knowledge had been gained in reaction to whatever crisis he’d needed to face. What little Gaius had dared to share coupled with what was in his book did little to make up the vast knowledge Morgana had, courtesy of her sister and the various druids, sorcerers and other outcasts she’d met on her travels. 

For her part, despite how she spoke about her role as High Priestess in maintaining balance and life and death, it was clear to Merlin she knew far more about the death part. Dozens of spells to inflict horrible injuries, curses and dark magics. Merlin could tell it both excited and unnerved her to be sharing her knowledge. Some part of his heart ached as he realised this is what she could have been. A teacher, an advisor, a true high priestess who cared for her followers and shared her knowledge and wisdom. Some part ached for him too, so long denied anyone to share his magic with. 

For their bargain, he rather thought he was getting the better deal. Healing was simply the application of theory. Morgana on the other hand, was teaching Merlin about the source of magic, ways to connect and replenish his stores, the way all life was interconnected. It humbled and awed him how deeply she was connected to her magic. Merlin had always thought of it as a tool, a resource he had at his disposal, much like a sword, something he would use when he needed it. For Morgana, magic was an expression of herself connecting her to something larger and older than herself. 

“Only the most powerful magic users can do this. It takes years of training and concentration” Morgana explained as she described how she sensed the energy of the earth, reading the ley lines. Merlin had to restrain himself from nodding in understanding. He had always been able to feel that, as long as he could remember. In truth the more Morgana taught him the more he realised just how rare his abilities were. She described days and weeks of training to learn spells he’d mastered in hours. He almost felt embarrassed as he pretended to struggle to sense the height of tide a hundred miles away, when the tides moved through him as natural and as easy as his breathe or heartbeat.

Meanwhile, Morgana made no such show of failure. Merlin was almost scared how easily she picked up healing. He dared not let her use any spells on Aithusa and she agreed. The dragon’s progress was too marked and too important to risk interfering. Morgana herself explained how different magical energies could interfere with one another if they weren’t in harmony, causing the opposite effect. 

“I know,” Merlin agreed darkly, trying not to think of Uther, the anguish on Arthur’s face when he failed, the power he’d meant to heal killing instead. Morgana sensed the change in his mood.   
“You know?” she asked delicately.   
“I’ve lost patients before because of it,” Merlin explained shortly. She didn’t press. 

Without using Aithusa, Morgana has to find her own injuries to practice on. Merlin had had the advantage of living and working in an infirmary. Morgana practiced on herself or Merlin or the animals she hunted. It made something inside him squirm when Morgana would use her bow to shoot a rabbit only to heal it moments later, but he couldn’t find a voice to articulate the sense of wrongness when those she didn’t heal ended up in their dinner pot. 

The leaves had started to turn, and the nights were getting colder by the time Merlin was satisfied that he’d done all the preparation he could for Aithusa. The dragon was all but unrecognisable from the twisted broken creature he’d first encountered in that cave in winter. Almost a year later his limbs were straight, his scales shone, and his wings were strong. But there was still something he needed to do.

There was only one living human who knew all his greatest secrets. While Morgana knew about his magic, she didn’t know his full power, or what the Druids named him. She also didn’t know about his connection to Aithusa. She’d asked him once how he knew the dragon was her weakness. It hadn’t been a pointed question, and there had been no anger there so he’d answered honestly. He hadn’t. She’d laughed at him. 

“Only you would walk into a trap with no plan and a half-baked idea. No wonder you and Arthur get along so well.”   
He’d shrugged taking no offense.   
“It seemed like a good idea at the time.” 

Now it was time for another ‘good idea’. While he’d mended Aithusa’s body as best he could, there was still another spell he needed to perform. For that he would need Kilgharrah. Despite their truce and almost trust they’d built up over the past few months, Merlin was under no illusion that Morgana would leave him alone with Aithusa. While he might be able to tell Aithusa to leave, there was no way he could do the same, not without her finding him. Even after all this time in the forest, she was still a far better tracker than him. So he was left with a choice to make. Except there was no choice. Without this final spell, all the healing he’d done thus far would be for naught. He was going to reveal one of his biggest secrets to one of his worst enemies. He could only hope he was making the right decision.


	26. Chapter 26

The fire was burning low and it was almost time for sleep but they lingered in its warmth. Morgana gazed pensively into the fire and Merlin did the same. In the dim light, shadows were thrown over his face, his impossible cheekbones seeming even sharper, his eyes shadowed and reflecting the fire. They looked gold in this light, almost the same as when he worked magic. She knew hers must look the same. Merlin had been strangely quiet all day. All week if she was being honest. She knew herself to be prone to moods and fits, even in her younger days when life had been infinitely easier. Highly strung was the term Arthur had used, usually before getting wine spilled on him. Accidentally of course. 

But Merlin had always seemed simple and uncomplicated. His easy smile and light-hearted attitude had made the past months easier than any she’d had in years. Just his presence in the clearing had been enough to draw her out of her darker thoughts. She wasn’t sure if he was even aware of his strange power to bring lightness into a space. But now that light seemed dim and she was sure something was troubling him. 

“Penny for your thoughts?” she asked at last. He looked up at her in surprise and she had to resist rolling her eyes. Sometimes she thought he forgot she was there.   
“Do you ever think how different our lives would have been if we’d been able to talk about our magic?”   
His words surprised her. It hadn’t been at all what she was expecting.   
“Without Uther chopping our heads off you mean?” she answered bitterly. Merlin shrugged conceding.   
“I think,” she said hesitantly, “it would have been nice to have a friend.”  
Merlin smiled softly at that.   
“I think so too.” 

“That’s what I want to change,” she said bitterly, “As long as Arthur’s on the throne, children like us are going to grow up afraid and alone. Just like we were.”   
It was the first time she’d brought up the idea of taking the throne in months, the truce they’d established too fragile. She hoped maybe he would see it differently, now that he understood what he was a part of. It had been her main motivation in asking him to teach her, a way to share what she knew as well, to help him see what Uther had cost them all. 

She was disappointed. His smile died and he shook his head.  
“Don’t pretend your taking the throne has anything to do with justice,” he said softly.   
She wished he’d yelled, she was used to men who yelled.   
“Uther took everything from us,” she hissed.  
“I know,” Merlin said, meeting her eye, “but come on Morgana this isn’t about justice. You want revenge.”   
It would have been better if he’d slapped her.   
“What do you know about it! You’ve been Arthur’s faithful lapdog all this time. You haven’t seen what I’ve seen!”   
“No but I’ve seen what you did. How many people did you kill so you could have the throne last time? How many did you kill to threaten their loyalty?” 

She should be satisfied that he finally sounded angry, but something about his words hit home.   
“It was the only way they’d accept me,” she explained.   
“And why is that Morgana? If Arthur is as terrible as you claim, surely the people would be happy to see him gone! No, the truth is Arthur is a good King. His people love him. They’re loyal to him. He would die for any one of them and they know it.”  
“Arthur’s a fool,” she spat.   
“Arthur’s a good man.” Merlin responded. 

They glared at each other and Morgana almost missed the pensive silence of before. To her surprise Merlin relented first.   
“Why do you even want the throne?” Merlin asked wearily.   
“I told you-“   
He held up a hand for silence and to her shock she obeyed.   
“Do you really think you’re going to take the throne by force and right all the wrongs that Uther made? Do you really think that’s what ruling is like?” Merlin asked, his voice infuriatingly reasonable.   
“What would you know about it?”   
He chuckled softly and Morgana saw red before she realised he wasn’t laughing at her.   
“I’ve been Arthur’s servant for almost half my life. There isn’t much about being King that I don’t know. Trust me,” Merlin laughed again, and Morgana watched the shadows play over his face, fascinated in spite of herself by this strange boy who suddenly seemed like he’d grown up in front of her eyes. 

“Let me tell you what ruling looks like. It’s more paperwork than you can imagine. It’s late nights reading grain tariffs and trade agreements. I’ve cleaned more ink stains out of Arthurs sleeves in the past year than I care to remember. It’s long boring meetings with nobles you don’t like and who don’t like you or each other and somehow having them all walk out at the end happy and agreeing to what you want them to, while thinking it was their own idea. It’s hard work and it’s boring and thankless and no sane person would want it.” 

As he spoke Morgana relived her memories of her life in the castle. The banquets and tourneys and games but also the closed doors, Uther’s tired face, the whispers in the corners, and visiting ambassadors from other kingdoms. Morgana knew Merlin spoke the truth. There was more to running a kingdom than sitting on a throne and giving order. Morgause had spoken only of the glory, of smashing the old order and ushering the Old Religion back into the kingdom, a people grateful to be freed from tyranny. Dimly she realised neither of them had really known what would come after. Their vision had ended with her, victorious and crowned. Not the drudgery that came of running a kingdom day by day. She was as likely to leave it in ruins. Exactly what Merlin was afraid of. 

She realised Merlin was watching her, a faintly sympathetic smile on his face. She opened her mouth to snap at him but shut it again. She had nothing to say. The fever dream of revenge and glory that had sustained her for so long had already been fading. Now it collapsed to ash and dust. 

“You can find a new path, Morgana,” Merlin said gently, as if her entire world wasn’t crashing down around her. She looked at him again, her saviour and her destroyer. Her sister was dead, sacrificed on the alter of their ambition. It was hard to remember now why it’d been so important. Why her death had been necessary. It hadn’t gained her anything and she’d lost the only living family she had that cared about her. She realised dimly that her hands were shaking and she didn’t resist as Merlin moved beside her, taking her hands in his. To her shame, she let him. 

They stayed like that for a long time. Morgana’s shaking stopped as warmth stole back into her limbs. Her breath evened out and she felt a rare calm, something she hadn’t had in a long time. Neither of them spoke for a long time but when she did break the silence, the words didn’t stop. It had been a long time since she’d opened up to anyone. She told him about the year she’d gone missing, how Morgause had taught her what she knew, how she’d honed her gift, filled her head with visions of restoring the Old Religion and freeing people from the kind of persecution she and others like her had suffered. 

“She used you,” Merlin said gently, and she flinched even as she knew it was true. She’d blamed Merlin for his betrayal, for risking her life, for poisoning her to save the people of Camelot. But she’d never blamed Morgause for her role, for using her as the unwitting pawn in her game that started it all.   
“Could you have saved me?” she asked suddenly, shifting to look up at him properly. He shrugged sheepishly.   
“I wouldn’t have done it if I didn’t know I could undo it,” Merlin admitted.   
Morgana nodded to herself. It was what she’d suspected. 

“We have a lot of history, don’t we?” Merlin sighed.   
Morgana actually laughed at that.   
“You could say that. Although,” she continued, “you were always kind to me. You even saved my life once or twice.”   
“Once or twice,” Merlin admitted. 

They both fell back into silence, this time Merlin was the first one to break it.  
“Why Arthur?”   
From his tone, she could tell it was something he’d been wanting to ask for a long time. In truth she couldn’t even remember so she shrugged instead.   
“He was in my way,” she said simply. She expected Merlin to protest at this, even bracing herself for him to move away, but he didn’t. She could almost feel his thoughts buzzing.   
“And now?” Merlin asked finally and she could feel the tension in him as he asked. 

Morgana gave the question the consideration it deserved. It was true she still harboured a lifetime of resentment towards her so called brother. But Merlin had shattered her illusion of taking the kingdom. To take it would be to destroy it and everyone who lived there. She certainly had no intention of keeping it. Some part of her still felt they deserved it. That the so-called innocent people of Camelot deserved to suffer like the people who were persecuted for the way they were born had suffered. But that also condemned her people to a life poverty and left them vulnerable to invaders who would take the land and use its people for their own purposes. She had allied herself with enough men like that to know they were out there. 

She looked up at Merlin. How many more were there like him? Forced to hide what they were but living peaceful and otherwise safe lives. It was clear he was ashamed of what he was but was that a price worth paying for a life of peace? She didn’t have any answers anymore. She had been set on killing Arthur, destroying the last piece of the man who had destroyed her life, as she wished to exorcise that part of him from her. But it dawned on her rather than removing the last stain of his existence from the world she would be giving it life. For all that she hated him, she knew Arthur. She knew he was nothing like his father. But maybe she was. 

“I don’t know,” she answered finally.   
Merlin nodded as if it were a confirmation of something he already knew.  
“We should get some sleep,” he said with a sigh making to stand up. To her surprise he pulled her up with him, still holding her hands.   
“Good night Morgana,” he said softly, brushing a stray hair from her cheek, his touch so gentle as to barely there. Then he turned and made his way into the dark leaving her alone.


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't mind me just making up random mumbo jumbo magic nonsense *handwaves
> 
> What's the point of having magic in your universe if you can't use it to ex machina every problem

It was almost noon when Merlin made his final preparations. He called to Aithusa, and as usual Morgana followed in his wake.   
“We’re going to need a bigger clearing,” Merlin said shortly.   
“What for?” Morgana asked, curious.   
“I need more space to work. There’s one last spell I need to perform.”   
Now she was suspicious.   
“What kind of spell?”   
“Trust me,” he replied, hitching his bag higher and heading determinedly east to where he knew a larger opening could be found. He could hear the dragon following him, his bulk making stealth impossible, but Merlin didn’t look back. 

The conversation he’d had with Morgana the night before still left him uneasy. Years of fear and loneliness and manipulation could hardly be undone in a few months, even with the herbs Merlin had been feeding her, the same he’d been using on Aithusa to help him recover from his trauma. Really it had been too easy with Morgana insisting on testing anything he gave the dragon and refusing to do anything as lowly as prepare her own food when Merlin was around to do it for her. It really did boggle the mind to think how deep the entitlement of the nobility went, especially considering he’d poisoned her once before. 

But even with the best magical and medicinal help he could give, she was still a long way from healed. Now he was out of time. He’d already been away from court too long and who knew what trouble Arthur had found for himself in that time. He only hoped what he’d done had been enough. It was up to Morgana now to choose her path. 

He marched resolutely towards the clearing he’d chosen for his task, more dirt than grass and free of rocks with the sun shining down clearly. He stopped in the centre, turning to his two companions.   
“You might want to stand back,” he said, all the warning he gave before looking up at the sky and calling for Kilgharrah. 

It was a risk to summon the dragon in daylight, but they’d agreed the risk was necessary. The spell Merlin was going to attempt needed to be done at noon when the sun was strongest, for dragons were light and air. He met Morgana’s startled gaze steadily as the percussive sound of wingbeats could be heard in the distance. Aithusa was already scanning the sky, neck stretched upward. Morgana looked between the white dragon and Merlin and paled as she realised what was coming. 

“What have you done?” she hissed even as Kilgharrah’s shadow blocked the sun from the clearing. Morgana’s hair was blown around her face as the gold dragon landed, the backdraft of his wings buffeting them all. 

“Hello young warlock,” Kilgarrah said, not bothering to hide the amusement in his voice as he settled behind Merlin, clearly enjoying himself.   
“And the witch,” he added rudely before stretching forward to sniff delicately at Aithusa who returned Kilgarrah’s greeting, tentatively sniffing along the side of his muzzle before drawing back and trilling brightly.   
“Hmm yes I see what you mean,” Kilgarrah said to Merlin, turning to look at him again. 

Merlin meanwhile turned to face Morgana. The blood had drained from her face and she was trembling again as she looked up at the gold dragon’s massive bulk. Belatedly Merlin remembered she’d been in the castle during that time. The last she’d seen him, Kilgharrah had been terrorising Camelot.   
“It’s ok, he’s a friend,” Merlin reassured even as it looked like Morgana wanted to run. He didn’t blame her as Kilgharrah growled.   
“I am no friend to the Witch,” he corrected huffily. Merlin barely managed not to roll his eyes. He’d forgotten how much the dragon seemed to dislike Morgana. 

“Arthur said he killed it,” Morgana said shakily earning another growl from Kilgharrah.   
“Arthur Pendragon is many things, but a dragon slayer is not one of them,” he said testily.   
Morgana ignored him focusing instead on Merlin.  
“How?”   
Merlin shrugged self-consciously. He’d known he’d have to explain but the story was not a happy one, too raw for him to speak of it easily.   
“Uther sent Arthur and I to find a Dragon Lord. We found one.” As he spoke, he used a stick to draw symbols on the ground. To his left, Kilgharrah did the same with the sharp point of a claw.   
“Arthur said he died” Morgana said quietly, and he could tell from her tone that she had already guessed.   
“My father,” Merlin said shortly. He could see her putting the pieces together, the story Arthur had told the court on their return, that they’d found the Dragon Lord but he’d been killed before they could return to Camelot.   
“I’m sorry,” she said softly. 

Merlin ducked his head to hide the sudden tears that made his vision blur, so he was surprised by the warm huff of breath that ruffled his hair and was strangely comforting.   
“As am I,” Kilgharrah said, surprising Merlin by agreeing with Morgana.  
“Balinor was a good man, and a good friend. As is his son,” the dragon continued. Merlin rested a hand on his snout for a moment in thanks before they went back to their task, scribing symbols in the dirt.   
“You know each other well then,” Morgana asked, looking between the two and Merlin laughed suddenly.   
“I don’t think you can really claim to know a dragon,” he admitted even as Kilgharrah chuckled, the sound low and rumbling.

Merlin noticed Morgana glancing between the gold dragon and the white, no doubt comparing their size and shape. Beside Kilgharrah it was clear how young Aithusa was, how much smaller and more fragile he was. It was also painfully clear just how broken the young dragon had been.   
“What are you planning to do?” Morgana asked at last, even as they finished the last touches on their work. Three circles met and overlapped, a strange jagged row of symbols along each side. Kilgharrah had explained to Merlin that it was dragon language, the secret written language that dragons used and shared only with the Dragon Lords. This was not the Old Religion, or any kind of magic Merlin had used before. This was dragon magic. 

“I’ve done as much as I can for Aithusa physically. Now we have to heal his soul.” Merlin explained. It was more complicated than that. Kilgharrah and the part of Merlin’s soul that was dragon would attempt to reach Aithusa through the bond they all shared. If it went according to plan, Aithusa’s mind and soul would be healed and he would have all the knowledge and wisdom of his ancestors before him, passed down through this same ritual to all dragon kin. If. 

Morgana seemed to understand. She moved back towards the tree line, still keeping close to Aithusa, but relinquishing her defensive stance in front of the young dragon. Merlin knew she was clever, probably understood more about this than he did. He also knew she’d have questions. Those would have to wait. 

Aithusa crawled forward tentatively to the place in the circle Kilgharrah indicated for him. The way the young dragon behaved Merlin was sure he recognised the bigger dragon, but he couldn’t be sure. Beyond those brief few moments after he’d hatched, Merlin wasn’t sure Aithusa had spent any time with Kilgharrah. It was an oversight he was paying for now, one he regretted bitterly. But with any luck, one he could fix. 

Merlin took his place in the centre. He was the link between all dragons, sharing a soul, his power acting as a conduit and a meeting place for them. Kilgharrah was on his left, the path behind, and Aithusa on the right, the path ahead. Merlin took a deep breath, centring himself. He felt the warmth of the sun beating down from overhead, shining off the dragon’s scales, filling him with energy. 

“Let’s begin.”

If Merlin had to describe what happened later, he wouldn’t have the words. As he intoned the words of the spell his being melted away and he became a pillar of fire and air, like a bellows and a forge and also like none of those things. The light that he knew was Kilgharrah and the light that he knew was Aithusa were separate and also part of him, separated and blurred. Images and sensations washed over him and he knew Aithusa could feel it too, the knowledge and wisdom of the ancient dragon being passed to them. Merlin could see the fractured cracks of darkness in the light that was Aithusa and reached forward instinctively, smoothing them away. At first the dragon recoiled from the light, keening as he was overwhelmed before the light flowed in strengthening him, burning out the flaws until he was a single pillar of flame. His light grew brighter, a solid white to Merlin’s gold and Kilgharrah’s red until it threatened to overwhelm them both. But Merlin held it at bay, held the line between who he was and what they were and then it was over. 

When he came to, he was on his knees panting in the dust. Kilgharrah’s laboured breathing came from his left echoed by the lighter and faster breathing on his right. So, they were all still alive. He dragged himself upright, crawling over to Kilgharrah first. The old dragon had used all his energy, but he stirred weakly under Merlin’s touch and cracked an eye open. Merlin turned to the other dragon. Morgana was already on her knees before him, her hands on either side of his snout. His eyes were open, a clearer blue than Merlin had seen before. He gently disentangled himself from Morgana’s grip, drawing himself up before Merlin before dipping his head down in an unmistakeable bow. 

“Thank you, Dragon Lord.” He said in clear tones, and Merlin felt tears slide down his cheek. Aithusa looked past him to Kilgharrah.   
“Thank you, Elder,” he added respectfully before raising himself back to his full height and moving closer. He touched the tip of his nose gently against Kilgharrah’s snout, and exhaled. Merlin could feel the magic tingling in that breath as it settled over Kilgharrah and his breathing evened almost instantly. The gold dragon raised his head and blinked down at the smaller dragon.   
“A healer,” Kilgharrah breathed, and Merlin could feel the shock and wonder in his voice. Aithusa dipped his head again respectfully, moving away again. 

“Aithusa?” Morgana called hesitantly. Merlin had almost forgotten about her; he was so wrapped up in the magic and the new knowledge that was settling into his bones. Merlin imagined Aithusa felt the same, generations of memories and knowledge momentarily overwhelming him. At Morgana’s call though he turned, nuzzling against her gently. 

“Morgana,” he said, affection lacing his tone and Morgana buried her face into his, but not before Merlin saw the tears in her eyes. Merlin turned back to Kilgharrah to give them a moment.   
“Are you ok?” he asked quietly  
“I am better than ok, young Warlock,” he replied, “for I have hope,” he added, sounding delighted.   
“What happened?” he asked.   
“Exactly what was meant to happen.” Kilgharrah replied. Merlin shook his head grinning. Honestly, he’d have been more concerned if he was making sense.

“I will take my leave now, Merlin.” Kilgharrah added. “Even with Aithusa’s assistance, I need to rest after such a taxing spell.”   
Merlin looked up at him concerned.   
“Are you sure you’re ok?”  
“I will be fine young warlock. You will see me again; you have my word.” Kilgharrah said reassuringly before spreading his wings and taking off leaving Merlin feeling bereft. He was startled then to feel a gentle nudge from behind and he turned to look into Aithusa’s piercing gaze.   
“It is our way,” he said gently, and Merlin nodded his understanding. Dragons didn’t say goodbye. 

“What now?” Morgana asked, standing behind Aithusa. Merlin smiled at her sadly.   
“Now I go back to Camelot,” he answered. “I’ve fulfilled my promise. Aithusa is healed. It’s time for me to go home.”   
“Thank you again, Dragon Lord, for all you have done. And do not blame yourself for what befell me. I chose my path.” Aithusa said. Merlin felt a weight lifted from his heart at the words. That the dragon could speak at all was more than he could have hoped for. 

“What about you?” he asked the dragon. Aithusa looked back at Morgana before answering.   
“I would stay with my Lady, with your permission.”   
Merlin studied her a moment before nodding.   
“Stay out of trouble,” he said.   
“As you wish.” 

Finally, he moved to stand in front of Morgana.   
“I guess this is goodbye,” he said simply. Morgana looked back at him, shocked.   
“You can’t be serious?” she asked incredulous. She looked around beseechingly, before her gaze caught on the bag, he’d brought with him.   
“You knew you were leaving,” she said accusingly.   
“I promised I’d heal him. What happens now is up to him.” 

She opened her mouth, no doubt to argue, but Merlin stopped her with a hand on her shoulder.   
“I have a duty in Camelot, Morgana. But I’m giving you a chance. Find a new path, one you choose for yourself. Let go of the past.”   
“What if the past is all I have?”   
“I know it isn’t.”

With that he turned to leave. 

He didn’t look back. 

They didn’t follow.


	28. Chapter 28

Merlin felt almost buoyant as he walked beneath the familiar trees. He was less than an hour’s walk from Camelot and with every step he felt his heart lighten. Aithusa’s recovery was more than he could have hoped for. Months of careful ministration, of healing and talking and stretching had returned the dragon back to almost his original shape. Some scars would never heal, but that was true for them all. Aithusa was in charge of his own destiny again, with the full power and knowledge of an adult dragon. Whatever befell him now would be his choice. 

Merlin had no trepidation about leaving him with Morgana. In truth he had no stomach for telling the dragon what to do. He could have ordered him to leave, to never see her again, to leave her truly friendless and without allies and Aithusa would have had no choice but to obey. But removing the free will from sentient beings was not something Merlin relished and would not undertake lightly. As it was, he hoped that he had done enough. What was left now was up to them.

Merlin felt before he heard the faint drumming of hoof beats and he was only somewhat surprised when he saw a Camelot patrol trotting towards him. He waved at them jauntily and the lead rider pulled up short causing those behind him to swerve to avoid him. Gwaine’s grin was bright as he leapt from his horse and Merlin had just enough time to drop his bag before he was caught up in a rib crushing hug which he returned with interest. 

“Merlin!”   
Someone called his name and he turned in time to see Elyan jump from his horse to pull Merlin into a strong though slightly less enthusiastic hug. It was hard to match Gwaine in enthusiasm. Several more knights dismounted, most Merlin only knew by sight, not being in Arthur’s inner circle. 

“We thought you were dead!” Elyan exclaimed even as Gwaine elbowed him in the ribs before throwing an arm around Merlin’s shoulders.   
“We never doubted you,” he countered, and Merlin couldn’t help but grin up at his friends. He’d missed them.   
“We should inform the King,” another knight said to a murmur of agreement. Merlin noticed Gwaine look up at his horse and back at Merlin and for a terrifying moment he thought Gwaine was going to suggest they ride double. But then he shouted orders for the others to return to Camelot and alert Arthur while he accompanied Merlin back on foot. 

“Just remember to keep your hands to yourself,” Elyan joked cryptically, even as he ushered the rest of the knights off. Gwaine raised his hands innocently. Merlin was grateful as the other knights rode off at a gallop, all of them eager to bring good news to their King. Gwaine threw his arms around Merlin again, this time solemn and intense, all show gone. 

“Are you alright?” he asked seriously, murmured into Merlin’s hair. Merlin relaxed into the familiar embrace, the last of the tension of the past months leaching away.   
“I’m fine,” he said pulling away at last and picking his pack up. He still had a mile to cover before he made it to the castle and he’d prefer not to meet Arthur on the road. Merlin started walking, Gwaine falling easily into step beside him. 

“How’s Arthur?” he asked, the question he’d been most anxious to ask. Gwaine sighed to himself and stopped checking Merlin for injuries.  
“Ah the princess is just fine.” Gwaine said, mockingly. Merlin reached over and shoved him, catching the knight unprepared and off balance. He looked pleased.   
“You’ve gotten stronger,” he said delighted.   
He sobered again almost instantly.   
“Where have you been?” 

Merlin looked up into the concerned eyes of his friend and knew he couldn’t lie to him. Not after everything he’d done for Gaius. Not after the trust he’d placed in him, letting him leave in the middle of the night, no explanations and no knowing when he’d be back.  
“I was with Morgana.” He answered honestly.  
He saw Gwaine’s gaze sweep him again meaningfully. No rope burns on his wrists, no injuries, no sign of a struggle to escape. Sometimes Gwaine was too smart for his own good, a fact that he was sure would surprise most of the court. Merlin knew it was a sign of his trust that he wasn’t being escorted in hand cuffs. 

“I made a deal with her, for Gwen,” Merlin elaborated. “There was someone she wanted me to heal.”   
Gwaine watched him carefully and Merlin knew he guessed it wasn’t the whole story, but he didn’t press.   
“That’s why you came back. You needed Gaius’ supplies.”  
Merlin nodded.   
“Should we be worried?” Gwaine asked at last, cutting straight to the heart of the matter.   
“No,” Merlin reassured him, “the person I healed is no threat to Camelot.”   
Gwaine’s grin faltered unexpectedly though he did a valiant job of plastering it back on.  
“You scared me Merlin.”  
“All of us” he added hastily.   
“I’m sorry,” Merlin said, meaning it.   
“You don’t always have to do everything alone,” Gwaine added meaningfully and Merlin had to fight to keep his eyes clear. It had been too long since he’d been around people who cared about him. He’d forgotten what it felt like.   
“I’ve missed you, Gwaine,” he said sincerely. He was rewarded with a rough laugh.   
“I’ve missed you too, Merlin. 

Ahead Merlin could see the walls come into view and they fell into companionable silence. It was still a marvel to Merlin that Gwaine, who didn’t normally stop talking, could be such a quietly reassuring companion. It wasn’t until the shadows of the gate itself loomed over him that Merlin thought to be nervous and once he had he couldn’t stop the mounting tension. At the steps of the castle Gwaine bumped him subtly.

“It’ll be fine,” he murmured quiet enough not to be heard by the various castle folk who had all stopped to stare at him. It seemed returning from the dead caused quite a stir. Once inside, Gwaine turned Merlin left, down the corridor towards Gaius’ quarters and while Merlin was quite sure those weren’t his orders, he was grateful. Gaius was indeed the first person Merlin wanted to see. Pushing open those wooden doors was like a dream and Gaius looked up and the next thing Merlin knew his face was buried in his robe and he was crying quietly into Giaus’ shoulder. 

“Merlin, what are you-“ Gaius was lost for words. Gwaine rolled his eyes.   
“Typical, they were so busy tripping over themselves to tell the king, I’m guessing nobody bothered to let you know,” he said easily, leaning against the door.   
“That’s quite alright, he’s here now Gwaine,” Gaius assured.   
“I healed him, Gaius” Merlin murmured quietly. Gaius smiled at him.   
“I never doubted you would, Merlin.” He said and Merlin could tell he meant it. 

Their reunion was cut short by Leon walking in the still open door.   
“Did you get lost Gwaine?” he teased the knight before turning to Merlin.   
“Hullo Merlin, nice seeing you,” he said lightly with a wink and Merlin grinned at him in return.   
“But seriously, Arthur’s having a fit so if you’re all done here?” Leon asked nodding to Gaius and Merlin appreciated to older Knight’s decorum. It was clear he could appreciate Merlin’s desire to see Gaius first, but he was still under orders from the King. 

“I’m coming,” Merlin reassured him, quickly wiping his eyes on his sleeve. He gave Gaius one last hug before he squared his shoulders and faced the knights.   
“Let’s go.” 

He was going to see Arthur.


	29. Chapter 29

Arthur paced. It had been almost half an hour since the knights had told him Merlin had returned. He’d managed to wait until they’d left to collapse into his chair. 

Merlin was back. 

He’d been in the throne room with Gwen in the middle of a meeting, but he’d left immediately. Gwen was more than capable of handling it, probably more capable than he was, and this was more important. 

Merlin was alive. 

The door creaked open and Arthur swung to face it. That same ugly scarf, those ridiculous ears, the foolish grin. 

“Merlin.” 

He waved the knights out, barely noticed Gwaine rolling his eyes before the door snapped shut. 

“Sire –“ 

Arthur took three steps across the room and grabbed him in a rough hug. He had a vague thought that it was good he wasn’t wearing his mail before Merlin was hugging him back just as hard. He stepped back quickly. 

“Where have you been?” he demanded.   
“Morgana-“  
“What kind of stupid stunt was that?”   
“I-“  
“Do you have any idea how worried I’ve been?” 

Merlin said nothing.

“Well, do you have anything to say for yourself?”   
“Are you actually going to let me speak now, Sire? Merlin asked with a grin. Arthur paused for a minute before dragging him in to rub knuckles through his hair. Merlin protested and wriggled away laughing.   
“I see you haven’t lost your cheek,” Arthur grumbled, not even trying to pretend he wasn’t delighted.   
“But seriously Merlin, where have you been?”   
“Morgana had me,” Merlin said simply and Arthur rolled his eyes.   
“Yes I know that,” he said sharply, turning to the table to pour two glasses of wine. “But where have you been? Where’s Morgana? How did you escape?”  
He handed Merlin a glass and leaned back on the table watching him intently over the rim of the cup. It took him a moment to realise Merlin was staring at him like he had two heads and another to realise he’d just handed his servant a drink.   
“Don’t get used to it,” he said suddenly self-conscious as he gestured to a chair and slid into the one opposite. Merlin tentatively sat on the chair, looking convinced it was about to be pulled out from under him. He remained standing.   
“Look Merlin, I know I can never repay you…” he started awkwardly.   
“Sire, please I don’t-“  
“No, Merlin, let me finish. I can never repay you for what you did. It was brave of you, foolish, but brave. You saved Gwen, and who knows how many lives. Camelot owes you a debt.” Arthur knew he sounded formal but if he was being honest, he didn’t know how to sound or what to do. 

Merlin was alive. 

“Thank you, Sire.”   
Arthur wasn’t the only one sounding formal. Merlin shifted nervously and Arthur observed the movement with a sudden swell of dread. That feeling only grew as Merlin placed his cup back down on the table untouched and drew a breath. 

“There’s something I need to tell you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Arthur unit has feelings. Arthur unit malfunction.


	30. Chapter 30

Merlin looked down at Arthur as he looked up at him expectantly, and he felt his heart breaking. It would be so easy to step back into his old life. To take his place at Arthur’s side, to continue to hide, to lie, to bask in Arthur’s trust and affection. Too easy. He’d spent so many years hiding more than half of who he was, convinced it was enough. But Arthur deserved more than a friend who lied to him. Merlin deserved more. 

He took a breath. It had to be now. Before he lost his nerve. 

“Do you remember, a long time ago, I told you I knew nothing of my father?” Merlin began. Arthur looked confused.  
“Don’t tell me we’re related,” Arthur joked. Merlin almost cracked a smile.  
“No of course not, I’m much too good looking to be related to you,” Merlin replied, though his heart wasn’t in it. Arthur seemed to sense it, because he didn’t interrupt again.  
“Are you saying you met him?” Arthur prompted gently when Merlin was silent too long. Merlin only nodded; the memory still raw. It was hard to believe it had been only hours ago he’d been standing on a hilltop with Kilgharrah and Aithusa. 

“Years ago, now, when we went looking for the dragonlord. Balinor was my father." Merlin said, his voice hitching slightly. "I never knew until just before we left. Gaius told me.”  
He braced himself for Arthur’s reaction but to his surprise Arthur only looked pensive.  
“I remember that trip. You were quieter than usual,” he mused softly. “I told you no man was worth your tears.” He looked up meeting Merlin’s eye. “I’m sorry Merlin, I didn’t know.” 

Merlin didn’t move as Arthur reached for the wine pitcher and poured himself another drink.  
“I really am sorry. I know how it feels to lose a parent,” Arthur continued gruffly, and Merlin knew he was remembering his own father’s death. Uther might have been many things, but Arthur had loved him in spite of it all.  
“Here, a toast. To your father.” Arthur held up his cup and Merlin reached for his own stiffly. The soft clink of their glasses was loud in the quiet room and they drank in silence. Then Arthur shifted uncomfortably, and his voice was louder than necessary when he spoke. 

“Well come on Merlin don’t look so grim. I'm not going to arrest you for that. It’s not like we choose our parents.” Arthur said dismissively.  
“There’s more, Sire.” Merlin said hesitantly. He took a deep breath, centring himself. For better or worse it was time.  
“I have magic.” 

The words hung in the air and Merlin instantly wished he could take them back even as he felt a weight lift from his shoulders. Arthur froze and Merlin could see the panic in his eyes before it was replaced with disbelief. 

“Come on Merlin, this is just some trick of Morgana’s, she’s messing with your head...” Arthur started but trailed off as Merlin shook his head.  
“No, Sire. I was born with it.” Merlin said firmly even as his heart cracked. It was bad enough to have to tell his best friend how he’d lied all these years, without having to argue to prove it. But even as he spoke he saw Arthur’s thoughts racing. 

“The boy in the village. In Ealdor.” Arthur said. “Your friend, what was his name?”  
“Will?”  
“Yes. He said he was the one who conjured that whirlwind, it was you wasn’t it?” Arthur asked.  
Merlin almost laughed. Of all the things he would remember, of all the times he’d used magic to save Arthur's life, that would be the one he remembered. Instead he nodded. 

Arthur stood and Merlin flinched but forced himself to stay where he was. But Arthur just paced, muttering to himself. Merlin was almost worried, but he didn’t dare say anything. Finally Arthur snapped.  
“Show me.”  
It wasn’t a request. Merlin straightened his shoulders. He refused to cry. He’d brought this on himself. He’d chosen his path. He was strong enough now to walk it. So he held up a palm, looked his King in the face and breathed softly. 

_Gewyrc an lif._

A single blue butterfly flew from his palm, pure and brilliant and damning. Merlin knew Arthur saw the flash of gold in his eyes and made a thousand connections. The times he disappeared, the secrets he kept, the way he’d looked at Mordred in that throne room, the thousand thousand times he’d betrayed his King. He saw the understanding in Arthur’s eyes, the damning acceptance of what he was. Merlin closed his palm and the butterfly vanished. He felt like he’d aged a thousand years. 

“I’m sorry, Arthur.” 

He left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you know how hard it was to make Merlin admit that? I've been trying since chapter one. He just doesn't want to cooperate! 
> 
> So yes that happened. I know Magic reveal fics have been done to death, but I hope you enjoyed that scene, it was impossible to write.


	31. Chapter 31

Arthur sat for a long time. The shadows in the room grew and his muscles ached in protest.

Merlin had magic. 

Finally, he stood and threw open the door startling the guards who stood there.   
“Summon the knights.” 

He didn’t wait for them to respond before he strode down the hall, cloak billowing behind him, making his way to the throne room. 

Word must have spread quickly, or his tone had given them a hint, because the guards had moved quickly. Half of the knights were already assembled when he entered, no doubt lingering after the meeting earlier, and more were pouring in. Guinevere’s smile faltered as she saw his face and she moved to him quickly. 

“Arthur, what’s wrong?”  
He brushed her aside gently and made his way to his place at the table, waiting. The knights assembled quickly, taking their places, muttering amongst themselves. Gwaine was the only one who dared address him. 

“Where’s Merlin?”   
The whispers buzzed grew louder, questions buzzing from those who hadn’t already heard of his return. Arthur silenced them with a gesture. Silence fell. 

“Merlin,” Arthur said, voice catching on the name, ”has magic.”  
That set the whispers off again. A few reactions caught his eye precisely for their lack of reaction.   
“Leon?” he asked disbelieving as the knight ducked his head.   
“I’m sorry, Sire, I thought you knew,” the knight lied weakly.   
“How long?” Arthur demanded.   
“…Since the dragon?” Lean answered, likely wishing he could sink into the stones from the way he cringed back from his King.   
“The drago- THAT WAS SEVEN YEARS AGO!” Arthur shouted. “How?”   
“Well after the dragon knocked you out Merlin kind of…spoke to it?” Leon replied.   
“He spoke to it.” Arthur asked, deadpan.   
“He threatened it,” Leon corrected. “He told it to leave Camelot forever and it just, did,” He finished weakly. Arthur started at him.  
“Who else knew?” he asked, rounding on the rest of the room. 

Mordred raised a timid hand, but Arthur ignored him. He’d already expected that. It was clear now that Merlin knew of the boy’s magic, it made sense that Mordred would know of Merlin’s. To his surprise Percy of all people also raised a hand.   
“Percy?!” Arthur asked not even bothering to hide his surprise. While he was a brave and loyal knight, one Arthur knew to be honourable, he was rarely forthcoming, and Arthur couldn’t imagine Merlin confiding in him. Percy only shrugged.   
“Lancelot told me.”   
“Lancelot knew!”   
Arthur could hear his voice rising to an undignified pitch but he really didn’t care right now. Percy shrugged again.   
“Well Merlin helped him kill that Griffin.”   
“Merlin killed a Griffin,” was the only response he could make. 

“You can only kill a Griffin with magic, so when Lance told me about it, I knew someone had to have helped him. Merlin was the only friend he had here. Seemed the obvious conclusion,” Percy explained.   
Arthur stared at him dumbfounded. He wasn’t the only one. He wasn’t sure Percy had ever spoken so many words in one breath before, and certainly not in front of so many.

“Anyone else?” he asked, sounding hysterical even to himself.   
Gwaine’s grin told a story and Arthur almost groaned out loud. Of course Gwaine knew.   
“Well come on, let’s hear it,” he grumbled.   
“Well I seem to remember meeting a little man on a bridge. Said courage had already passed, which meant magic and strength were left. Obviously I was strength,” he said with a wink at Gwen and Arthur suppressed the urge to throttle him but managed it when he realised what he was referring to. The strange man guarding the bridge to the Fisher Kingdom had said courage, magic and strength would be needed to complete their mission. And then Merlin and Gwaine had joined him. How could he have been so oblvious? 

Finally he noticed Elyan pointedly looking anywhere but at Arthur and when he looked to his side Gwen was looking down at her hands, the picture of a composed queen and not looking at all shocked or surprised that one of their closest friends had just been accused of sorcery.   
“Guinevere?” he asked weakly.   
“Oh Arthur,” she said sounding almost sorry for him, “you know strange things always happen around him. I didn’t know, but I can’t say it’s a surprise. You said you were stumbling around that forest for days without making any progress. He found me in less than two.” 

Arthur say down heavily. Leon, Percival, Gwaine. Guinevere. He closed his eyes. From his left someone stirred.   
“What do we do now?” Elyan asked, addressing the room. Arthur sighed. 

“There’s only one thing we can do.”


	32. Chapter 32

Merlin sat, dry-eyed and numb on the bench in Gaius’ room. He could scarcely believe he’d done that. Gaius sat beside him, equally stunned. Neither of them was surprised at the dull thud of footsteps at the door which could only belong to the guards. Gaius flinched slightly when the door was opened without knocking but Merlin expected it. Arthur had clearly made his choice. 

It was a surprise to see Gwaine. His face was grim and his tone serious as he addressed them.   
“Gaius,” he said, nodding respectfully, “Merlin, you have to come with me.”   
He sounded apologetic but resolved and Merlin just nodded back and stood up. Gaius reached out a hand to stop him, but Merlin shook him off.   
“It’ll be ok, Gaius,” he assured softly, though he didn’t really believe that himself.   
“I’m sorry Gaius, you have to stay here,” Gwaine said, sounding increasingly apologetic. Beneath the numbness Merlin felt a stab of resentment towards Arthur that he would send one of his closest friends for this. There were a dozen knights that Merlin would have preferred. Perhaps, Arthur thought, Gwaine would convince Merlin to come willingly. 

He was right. 

Gaius on the other hand, was not so easily persuaded.   
“Surely I have the right to be present?” Gaius pleaded and Merlin’s heart broke for him. He hadn’t even been back for a day. Gwaine stood between them, physically stopping Gaius’ progress. Merlin knew Gwaine had risked life and limb daily to win Gaius bread when the castle had been taken by Morgana. He’d visited Gaius, comforted him in Merlin’s absence. Merlin knew it must be costing the knight something to fulfil his orders.   
“Gaius, please, stop,” Merlin asked, not willing to drag out the inevitable. He thought he saw something almost like gratitude in Gwaine’s eye before he turned away.   
“Merlin-“ Gaius argued but Merlin shook his head.   
“I’ll be alight,” he said with a sudden smile, “I promise.” 

Gaius seemed to subside at that and Gwaine nodded at the guards to escort him. Merlin followed them. The last he saw was Gwaine placing a restraining hand on his shoulder as Gaius sank back down into his seat. Merlin held onto the image as he walked, tried to remind himself that he would get out of this. No dungeon could hold him, no weapon harm him. Not now. He’d made his way in and out of this castle a dozen times over and now he didn’t need to hide what he could do. 

Their footsteps echoed through the empty corridors, but Merlin knew the servants would be peering out from the myriad of corridors and hidden doors they used to remain unseen by those they served. Dinner was no doubt being readied in the kitchens. The sun had set outside the corridors were lit and his shadow was long on the floor. They hadn’t handcuffed him. That was something to be grateful for. Nor were the guards rough, walking beside him solemnly. 

They pushed open the doors of the throne room and took up their stations on either side, leaving Merlin to walk through alone. It took all his courage to face the eyes in that room. There was Leon in the shadows behind the throne, not meeting his eye. Percival on his left guarding the King’s flank, arms folded, stoic as always. Elyan nodded to him slightly, gratitude in that brief acknowledgement and Merlin knew at least one person here still remembered that he’d saved Gwen’s life. The round table had been cleared away and it was a long walk to the end of the room. 

Finally Merlin could avoid him no longer. He looked up at Arthur on the dais. His crown was on his head, polished and glowing in the firelight that lit the room. The crown Merlin had helped him win. Merlin was surprised to find he didn’t feel bitter. Every person in his room owed him their lives one way or another. Every person in this room had been deceived by him. He had always walked the knife’s edge. Now it was time to learn the damage. 

He stopped before his King, He bowed to Guinevere on the throne behind Arthur, resplendent and regal as any Queen and Merlin could be glad that if nothing else, he had that. His first friend, his fellow servant raised as high as any could save the King himself. For her he’d risked his life, his freedom and his destiny and he couldn’t regret it. It made it easier to meet Arthur’s eye as he turned back to face him. There was something infinitely sad in his gaze as Merlin waited. He wondered idly if this would hurt Arthur as much as it was hurting him. 

“Lords and ladies, knights and members of the court,” Arthur began formally, voice carrying in the silence of the room. “I have summoned you here to address a grave matter. My servant, Merlin, has admitted to the crime of sorcery. Do you deny it?” 

He was really doing this. Merlin felt the blood drain from his limbs, but his voice was steady when he answered. 

“No, Sire.” 

“Do you have anything to say in your defence?” Arthur asked, voice still solemn and impersonal but Merlin thought he detected something. Arthur had a reputation for fairness, he knew he’d be asked to explain himself. Did he think there was a way out of this? Merlin looked at him quizzically, but his expression gave nothing away. 

“Only that I have always acted in your best interests, to protect you and and Camelot.” Merlin replied.   
“Is there any one present who can attest to this?” Arthur asked, and now Merlin’s head was truly spinning. This was not what he was expecting. To his surprise Guinevere stood. 

“Not four months ago, Merlin risked his life to rescue me from Morgana at great personal cost to himself,” she said clearly, before sitting back down. Merlin felt a wave of affection for his friend. Even now she was trying to help him. 

“I did nothing more than anyone here would,” he demurred softly, his words intended for her alone, but carrying nonetheless.   
“And yet no one else here did,” she replied, not softly but with a smile. He did his best to return it. 

“He banished the dragon,” a voice called from the wall, and Merlin was startled to see Leon stepping forward.   
“I-“   
“Do you deny it?” Arthur asked again, and there was definitely something in his tone this time, something that made Merlin think there would be a private reckoning if he survived this public trial.   
“No,” he admitted. 

“He saved our lives when we were poisoned by Borden,” Elyan called from his other side and Merlin turned to him in disbelief.   
“Aye, and he’s got me out of many a scrape,” another familiar voice called, and Merlin turned to meet Gwaine’s eye, Gaius behind him, both attempting to smother smiles. A dawning suspicion came over him and Merlin turned back to Arthur, a look of incredulity on his face only to find Arthur attempting to conceal his own mirth as more voices called throughout the room, every person Merlin had helped or saved over the years. There were more than a few of them. After several moments, Arthur held up a hand for silence. 

“Have you ever acted in malice towards Camelot or her people?” Arthur asked, his tone stern despite the clear light of mirth now dancing in his eyes.   
“No, Sire,” Merlin answered honestly, still waiting to be let in on the joke.   
“Then in light of your commendable service to Camelot and her people, I hereby pardon you of all crimes. This trial is over” Arthur pronounced. Merlin’s quiet sob was lost in the cheers, the knights the loudest of all. Guinevere hurried forward to hug him and he held onto her gratefully, the first time he’d seen her since the tower. 

“Really, was that necessary?” she hissed over her shoulder as Arthur even as she stroked Merlin’s hair soothingly. He could feel her glowering at her husband, and he laughed suddenly. Looking up he could see the same mirth as Arthur shrugged at him.   
“Fair’s fair, he’s been tricking me for years,” Arthur said easily. For a moment it was just the three of them cocooned within the noise of the hall and Merlin blinked away his tears as he realised what had just happened. 

“Does this mean you’re not going to chop my head off?” he asked, looking between them. He felt Guinevere huff beside him as Arthur rolled his eyes.   
“Don’t be an idiot, Merlin,” he said.   
“Of course not,” Guinivere added.  
Merlin looked up at Arthur, seeking any resentment and found none. His legs started shaking.  
He was free. Arthur sensed his weakness, stepping forward to steady him and Merlin smiled at him gratefully.   
“I knew you were never really just a servant anyway,” Arthur said warmly before hugging him tightly.   
Merlin was too shocked to even respond for a moment, coming to his senses just enough to wrap his arms around Arthur. 

The sound in the hall slowly lessened and Merlin could sense people filing out, still talking among themselves. He heard his name whispered over and over. A moment later several hands pounded on his back as the knights offered their own congratulations. Arthur released him only to be drawn into a many limbed embrace with Gwaine, Elyan and Leon, while Percival loomed over them all. Finally, they drew back and there was Gaius, tears in his eyes and Merlin embraced him warmly. 

“Well done Merlin,” he said roughly. As Merlin stood surrounded by the people he loved most, people who now not only knew what he was but accepted him, he finally felt like he’d come home.


	33. Chapter 33

Arthur drummed his fingers impatiently on the arm of his chair. They’d left the hall, Merlin following silently in his wake, just like he had for so long. He was halfway to his chambers before he’d even realised he was there and it took him the rest of the way to decide whether he wanted him. Guinevere gave him a complicated look before making an excuse, and Arthur didn’t know how he felt about that either. 

He did know they needed to talk. The show in the hall had been just that. A show. There was no question. Even if he’d been willing to give the order, Arthur knew there wasn’t a knight in Camelot who would actually arrest Merlin. Not after he’d rescued their Queen. Not after he’d saved their lives. So now Arthur was here, sitting by the fire with his best friend not knowing what to say. 

“Did you really kill a Griffin?” Arthur asked suddenly into the silence. Merlin had been sitting awkwardly, as if he wasn’t sure it was allowed. Merlin instantly looked guilty but he nodded.   
“I had help,” he added and Arthur snorted.   
“Just how many times have you saved my life?” he asked, annoyed. 

He didn’t know why it bothered him so much that Merlin was so unwilling to take credit for his deeds now his secret was out. True to form, Merlin shrugged, demurring and Arthur huffed in frustration.   
“So let me get this straight. You’ve just been running around behind my back, risking your life, and you want no credit?” Arthur asked, incredulous.   
Merlin was already shaking his head.   
“I don’t need credit, Sire.”   
“Then why did you do it? I mean come on Merlin, you’re not a knight, you’re not important…” the words died as he realised how callous that sounded but Merlin seemed to get the idea.   
“So come on then, why’d you do it? Really?” he continued.   
“Because I believe in you, Arthur. And in what you would become.” Merlin said earnestly.  
“And what’s that?” Arthur asked mockingly, because they were getting dangerously close to talking about their feelings and that always made him uncomfortable.   
“A good king,” Merlin said simply as if that explained anything. 

“My father would have had your head if he ever found out.” Arthur said exasperated, because Merlin was being deliberately stupid. “You’re saying you kept risking your life just to help me? I’m pretty sure you didn’t even like me.”  
Finally, Merlin laughed.   
“Well you were a prat,” He agreed smiling.  
“ I tried to take your head off with a mace.” Arthur continued stubbornly.  
“And I stopped you, with magic,” Merlin agreed before he sobered. “The dragon told me we shared a destiny. That you would bring magic back and unite the realm of Albion.”

Arthur wasn’t quite sure what his face looked like, but he was sure it must be peculiar.   
“The dragon told you.” He said flatly. “Was that before or after it tried to kill us all?”  
Merlin ducked his head and Arthur rolled his eyes.   
“You are impossible, Merlin.” He said, sounding fond even to himself.   
Finally, he asked the question that had been bothering him.   
“So why didn’t you tell me?”   
“Well, you said it yourself, Uther would have had my head,” Merlin said nonchalantly.   
Arthur made an irritated gesture.   
“I know that. But you could have told _me_ , Arthur said stubbornly. Merlin just looked at him sadly.   
“I didn’t want you to have to choose,” he said softly, and Arthur felt the blow land. 

It was as he’d suspected. Merlin had known that telling Arthur the truth would place him in an impossible position, torn between his loyalty to his King, his own duty to uphold the law as King himself and what his heart knew was the right thing. It was a flaw he’d seen in himself too many times, a rigid adherence to the law, ignoring his own conscience even when he knew what he was doing was wrong. But still, that had been a long time ago. 

“I know I can be a bit hard-headed,” Arthur admitted finally, “but I’ve been King for years. You could have told me before now.”   
Merlin shifted uneasily and for the first time Arthur realised how much guilt and shame Merlin must have carried, lying to him every day. Even now, he was struggling to face him, forcing himself to appear relaxed.   
“Because I was afraid,” Merlin admitted, confirming Arthur’s suspicions as he cleared his throat nervously to continue, “you’re my friend and I didn’t want to lose you.” 

The admission hung heavy between them. Arthur sighed, feeling the weight of the years. They’d been through so much since that first childish fight. Merlin had become someone he relied on, one of the few people he truly trusted, who he knew would always have his back. Despite everything that had happened, he realised that was still true. 

“I’m sorry, Merlin,” Arthur said softly, meaning it. Merlin looked startled.   
“What are you sorry for?”   
“I’m sorry I wasn’t a better friend to you.   
“Arthur-“   
Arthur cut him off with a gesture. He’d realised the sour feeling in his stomach was not betrayal but shame. Shame that he hadn’t been a better friend, a better ruler. Shame that Merlin hadn’t trusted him enough to value their friendship and his years of loyal service.   
“I’m sorry I made you feel like you couldn’t tell me.” Arthur said seriously, meeting Merlin’s eye. He could see the tears forming there, and looked away, busying himself with his glass, giving Merlin a moment to discretely wipe his eyes. 

“So why did you tell me?” Arthur asked loudly, trying to banish the dreary mood that had settled over them. He hated feeling vulnerable.   
“All that time I spent with Morgana, she had so much shame and self-loathing. She never had anyone to talk to. I should have-“   
To Arthur’s surprise, Merlin choked and Arthur once again had to reassess his own history. It hadn’t occurred to him until now that Merlin and Morgana had both been struggling with hiding their identity, both convinced the people around them would kill them for being what they were. He realised something else.   
“You knew.”  
Merlin didn’t try to deny it.  
“Gaius was trying to give her sleeping draughts to stop the dreams, but he knew then, she was having prophesies,” Merlin explained. 

Arthur ignored the pang of betrayal at how much Gaius must have conspired with his ward. He knew why it was necessary. Rather, not for the first time, he thought about what might have happened to Morgana if their father had been a different man. A better man. It had taken him years to admit even to himself that Uther had been a harsh and cruel king, more obsessed with prestige and power, demanding obedience rather than earning it. Arthur himself hadn’t been much better in those days. How many times had he watched Morgana rage across the table at their father at his mistreatment of the poor and unfortunate? How many times had he wished to join her, but ultimately bowed to his father’s will, the model of a perfect son, a perfect prince? He wished now he’d fought with her, given her some sign that she could trust him, that he would not reject her. 

“I know,” he said softly, and Merlin looked at him with understanding, both knowing that they’d failed.   
“I didn’t want to end up like her,” Merlin finished. “I didn’t want to keep being ashamed, to keep lying to everyone. Even if it means I have to leave.” 

Arthur was brought up short by that.   
“What do you mean leave?” Arthur asked anxiously. Merlin looked at him seeming equally surprised.   
“I mean, I appreciate you pardoning me and all, but Magic is still banned in Camelot. I can’t change what I am.”  
Arthur struggled not to laugh.   
“Did you forget about the Disir? I have to allow the Old Religion back into Camelot.”  
Merlin didn’t look reassured.   
“Allowing magic back into Camelot doesn’t mean you’ll want it in your court, and it isn’t legal yet” he said sadly, and not for the first time Arthur wanted to shake him. Instead he smirked. 

“Well, it just so happens, we were having a small problem, but you may have just fixed it for us,” Arthur said smugly. As expected, Merlin looked intrigued and Arthur struggled not to enjoy the moment, just as he had back in the throne room, watching Merlin’s stricken face slowly melt into disbelief.   
“You see, Magic has been banned by entire life. That’s over 20 years. We couldn’t expect the people just to accept it. I needed to see what their reaction would be,” Arthur continued. 

Arthur enjoyed watching the cogs turn as Merlin tried to figure it out. Arthur was telling the truth. While those within Arthur’s council knew the laws were being changed, and that magic was no longer outlawed, Arthur had yet to announce it to the general populace After decades of Uther executing all those accused of magic, playing on the fears and superstitions of the common people, the people’s reaction had been Arthur’s biggest concern. To go from a total ban to having sorcerers live and work among them, it would be a big transition, one that could trigger protests and riots from Camelot’s conservative populace who had been raised on stories of black magicians blighting their crops, causing sickness and plague, sacrificing their children. Morgana’s cruelty hadn’t enamoured the citizens of magic either. 

Merlin had, in a way, been the perfect solution. Whether he was aware of it or not, he was popular at court. Manservant to the King was the highest honour a commoner could hold, one that previous occupants of the role hadn’t failed to hold over the other servants. Even more than a simple servant, Merlin was a trusted member of Arthur’s court, had the ear of the King, and rarely was out of his sight. Merlin, however, was kind to everyone, without fault. Most of the servants viewed him with fond indulgence, used to his strange whims and quirks. Even those who might have been otherwise jealous of his position could hardly hold onto their resentment knowing how devoted he was, reinforced by the general knowledge that his recent absence was a result of his going off the save the Queen. All this had of course been gossip passed on by Guinevere, who somehow still knew all the servant’s gossip, though she wouldn’t reveal her source. 

In short, Merlin was beloved within Camelot, known to be loyal, devoted and instrumental in more than a few of Arthur’s successful campaigns. He was the perfect person to hold on trial. His popularity meant that no matter the charges, the court would absolve him. And having done so, would be more willing to do so in the future. That the knights themselves already knew and supported him had been an added bonus. Merlin’s unsung heroics made the case even easier, no tinge of favouritism tarnishing his pardoning. He was Arthur’s first step to introducing the idea of allowing sorcery into Camelot. No one, except apparently Merlin, expected him to be going anywhere. Arthur hoped that having one known sorcerer in Camelot would help them accept the idea of others. 

Merlin paled as Arthur explained it all to him.   
“Mordred offered to be the first case, obviously, but you were a better option,” Arthur finished. As the only sorcerer Arthur knew of, he had been their only choice, and the boy had accepted, but as a newcomer the impact would have been significantly less.   
Arthur was so pleased with himself, explaining his plan he didn’t notice Merlin’s reaction until he started to shake.   
“You mean I can stay?” he asked in a voice so small and unsure Arthur was angry at himself all over again for making Merlin ever doubt that his place was in Camelot by Arthur’s side.   
“Well my boots have been needing a good polish,” Arthur joked, “and have you seen the state of my stables?” 

Merlin’s laughter lit the room and Arthur felt something ease in his chest. It wasn’t perfect. They still had a long way to go and a lot to figure out. But Merlin was back. As long as that was true, he felt like, together, they could face anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tried to keep some of the dialogue from Diamond of the Day, but I wasn't a huge fan of how that played out, what with Arthur being totally dejected, wounded and delirious. But also every time I try and write Arthur, my Dean comes out so ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ best I could do sorry

**Author's Note:**

> This has been bothering me since I first saw this episode when it aired. Screaming at my tv didn't change anything. So now, 8 years later, I'm going to fix it.


End file.
